


The Gardens of Riddle Manor

by VanillaGhost



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Regency, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-01-15 21:06:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 50,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1319164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanillaGhost/pseuds/VanillaGhost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Harry happens upon a rare and beautiful flower, his relatives soon become obsessed with the gardens of their mysterious and powerful next door neighbour. Until one day they send Harry over the wall... </p><p>(a Rapunzel/Beauty and the Beast fairytale inspired AU.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Bloom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to apologize in advance, since this is my first go at any kind of fanfiction ever.  
> With that said, please don't hesitate to let me know what you think! And if going by this first chapter, you think it may look childish (?) I apologize for that too. I'm trying to aim for that fairy tale atmosphere, I guess~ :)
> 
> Gorgeous artwork done by [checkmatey](http://archiveofourown.org/users/checkmatey) on her tumblr [here](http://checkmat3y.tumblr.com/post/115814458150). Go check it out and give her some love! xx

_The man, who loved her, thought, ‘Sooner than let thy wife die,_  
_bring her some of the Rampion thyself, let is cost thee what it will.’_     
― The Brothers Grimm, _Rapunzel_

 

* * *

 

 The Dursleys were a well-to-do family. Neither extremely wealthy nor dirt poor, they lived in comfort in their middle-class house in the small but prosperous town of Little Whinging. They did their part in the community, but not out of any particularly strong moral standards. No, the only thing the Dursley family strived for was normalcy and to be in favour with society.

The only thing that continued to threaten this dream was their young relative, Harry Potter. He had arrived as a baby on their doorstep in a tattered old basket, a piece of folded parchment and a nasty looking lightning bolt shaped cut on his forehead. The parchment, it turned out, was in fact a note describing the child’s parents as having been murdered horribly by a band of ruffians and thieves. Of course, this was already too scandalous a story for the Dursley family, so they burned the parchment and took the child in. Doing the minimal effort in clothing, feeding, and sheltering it, they ended up making the child also cook, clean, and ordered him about like a servant. Since affording one of their own was too much money, they thought they might as well make use.

Harry hated his home life and there was little that made things bearable except for the small moments of peace when tending to the garden or spending time in the attic upstairs (his rather crude bedroom). Harry also liked to travel into town with the Dursleys when given the opportunity to be invited. But this was a rather long trip from the Dursley home, which was located more on the outskirts of town. Their household neared the countryside where the more grand and richly owned estates were.

And one such estate in particular, they happened to live right next door to.

The Riddle Manor was old and grand, but certainly not cheery or welcoming. It had an austere, foreboding aura to it and was owned by the most wealthiest family this side of the country. Many stories have been told about its occupants. About what sorts of treasures the Manor held inside its great walls. Or, rather - what _terrors_.  
But only one thing was known for certain, it seemed. And it was that the late Lord Tom Riddle Senior had died in there. And it had happened shortly before his son, Tom Riddle Junior, had arrived from seemingly out of nowhere and taken charge of the household. There was a lot of fuss and gossip over it in the town but none had ever dared to question the young Riddle. There was something wrong about him, people would say. Something dark. Rumours of him being a demon or a vampire spread. Some said that he practiced black magic and that he even ate small children for dinner. (These types of tales were usually reserved for the younger ones, however. Mostly when they misbehaved.) So they kept away, and the mysterious man stayed shut in his grand manor, hardly ever coming out. What was left, in the end, were only fables and stories.

That is until one blistering hot summers day…  


A most beautiful splash of colour caught the eye of Harry Potter as he was weeding the back garden of the Dursley household. Rolling up the sleeves of his already muddied second-hand shirt, he went over to it. He crouched beside the wall that separated the Dursley house from the Riddle estate and squinted down at the plant. He rubbed the sweat from his brow to try and clear his already slightly blurry vision but it hardly helped. It was too hot out here in the early morning and he had not had a very substantial breakfast.

Wiping his hands on his loose fitting pantaloons (also second-hand and now dirty), Harry bent low over the flower to touch its petals. He had never seen anything like it. Least of all in the Dursley’s plain, perfectly groomed garden. At the base of the petals it had the richest canary yellow that suddenly burst into a vivid peachy red at the tips. Overall, the flower was the most vibrant he had ever seen.

“Boy!!” Came the familiar bellow of his Uncle Vernon. Harry jumped up at the sound. “What on earth are you doing out there?! The hedges need trimming and then the chicken coup needs cleaning!” Harry hesitated. For some reason, he felt like he should keep the flower a secret. His own little secret. But then he saw his Uncle’s face go a shade of red that was somehow even darker than it had been before. “What the devil do you think you’re doing? DO AS YOU’RE TOL ―  _What is that?_ ”

The abruptness of the question caught Harry off guard and, just as he was about to form some sort of reply, it was too late. His Uncle came storming over to him and Harry braced himself instinctively. But it turned out he need not have. Not this time anyway.

“What are you hiding there, eh?” Uncle Vernon said, narrowing his already small eyes at his nephew in utmost suspicion.

“Uh - er - nothing. Nothing at all, Uncle. Really,” Harry stuttered out. Not surprisingly, his Uncle did not believe a word he said. He shoved his nephew aside unceremoniously and with too much ease. Sprawled on the grass like a ragdoll, Harry quickly turned to see his uncle’s small eyes gone wide.

“Quick! Call your Aunt Petunia,” He snapped, bending down as far as his large stomach would allow to get a better look at the flower. When he saw Harry hesitate once again, a purple hue began mix in with the red of his face. “DO IT!!”

Harry practically leapt to command. Scrambling up, he headed to the house just before the door slammed open to reveal his Aunt Petunia and her large whale of a son.

“Vernon? What’s all this racket?” She said. Then her eyes zeroed in on Harry and she sneered. “What are you doing? Don’t you have work to do?”

“Petunia, dear! Come and take a look at what’s been growing in our backyard!” Uncle Vernon said with a deeply satisfied chortle.

“Ooh! I want to see what Daddy found!” Dudley practically wailed as he bouldered past Harry to get to his father, Harry and Aunt Petunia not far behind.

When his Aunt saw the flower, her hand flew to her mouth. “Is that a - _Tulip?_ ” She gasped.

"Who cares. It's just a stupid flower!" Dudley whined, lifting his foot as if about to stomp on it. Harry's insides knotted. He was just about to do something - bodily throw himself in front of it, if need be - when his Uncle stopped his son instead.

"Not just any old flower, son," Uncle Vernon said with a jolly grin. "I dare say this little weed fetches around fifteen guineas a bulb!"

"Oh, Vernon! We'll be rich!" Aunt Petunia gasped in delight.

Dudley howled in triumph while Harry felt a roiling in the pit of his stomach.

" _You!_ " His Uncle Vernon snapped at Harry. "Dig it up. We're going to go to the market today." He grinned hungrily at the plant, making Harry a bit sick. They all began to head back inside before Aunt Petunia paused to glare over her shoulder.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Fetch the spade and dig it up! Look lively!"


	2. Mania

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick thanks to everyone who is bookmarking, giving kudos, commenting, and even just reading! It's very heartening and fuels the writing. <3

The next day found Harry at the dining room table, staring at the beautiful and fiery petals of the tulip in its pot. The flower sat in the middle of the table awaiting its fate much as Harry did then.

“I wonder where in the heavens it came from?” Aunt Petunia’s shrill voice traveled from the other side of the room. They frequently had a tendency to forget Harry was even in there when they had their fevered discussions. Perhaps, Harry thought, it was because they simply did not care either way.  

“Most likely a seed that blew in from that rich Lord next door. You know the one - that _Riddle man,_ ” Uncle Vernon sneered the name with utmost mistrust.

Aunt Petunia lowered her voice as if someone were listening. (Which did not help in any case, as it ended up being more of a stage whisper and anyone with ears could have heard from a good few meters away). “Do you suppose there could be more?”

“We'll get the boy to look.”  
  
A brief moment of silent thought. 

Inwardly, Harry sighed and begun to count down from three.

_3…_

_2…_

“Get up! Get up, you lazy thing! We’ll be heading into town. But _you_ \- “ Uncle Vernon's fat stubby finger pointed accusingly at his nephew. “ - will stay here and look for another of those tulips. You hear me, boy? Look at me when I talk to you. I said, do you understand? And no mumbling now.”

“ _Yes_ , Uncle,” Harry said demurely, and picked up the plant to follow his aunt and uncle out into the hall. 

The sound of Dudley’s hefty weight suddenly came pounding down the stairs to stop in the hall where his parents busied themselves with donning their coats, gloves, and daycaps. Harry found he did not envy them in that moment. It was far too hot to be piling on all the necessary garments for a day out in town. The Dursleys had a particular penchant for adding more to their wardrobe than was necessary. This was done in the hopes it was made clear they possessed some wealth and status in this little town.   
Dudley’s beady little eyes zeroed in on Harry and the plant. “Give it,” he said, snatching the pot from Harry's fingers with little care. Giving his cousin one last smug grin, Dudley followed his parents out the front door of the house. 

Harry expelled a breath of air as soon as the door slammed shut behind them. He might as well start looking if he had any hope of eating dinner that night.

* * *

By the time the sun's ray began to turn the sky a burning swirl of oranges and reds, Harry was slumped against the large stone wall separating him from Riddle manor. He stared at his soil covered hands. Empty hands.    
  
He had found nothing. There was nothing to be found. All the treasures lay beyond, and out of reach.   
  
Tired, frustrated, and with an awful twinge in his back, Harry went up to his room in the attic and locked himself in. (He might as well do it before Petunia did when they found out he had nothing to show for his afternoon's efforts.)

Harry flopped down on his flimsy excuse for a bed and stared out the tiny, grime-covered window. The warm colours of the sky were beginning to turn purple and blue. It was not long before the world outside would be cast in shadow. Harry strained his eyes to get one last glimpse of Riddle manor before night fell. He could just about see over the wall from this window, and smiled softly to himself. Among a fair few of them, this was Harry's favourite secret…

A small sliver of vivid and lush green garden revealed itself, spotted with colourful and exotic flowers in full bloom. Impossibly tall trees lined the far side of the estate and Harry wondered if it were the beginning of a small, private forest. He gazed longingly at the mysterious and beautiful utopia. It should have come as no surprise the tulip came from the Riddle house. How wondrous must the gardens truly be if one small tulip bulb cost 15 guineas? Harry would not be surprised if there were even more precious and rare plants growing in that secret place. And to think he had a small slice of that life in his hands only a few hours ago!

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Harry berated himself. If he had just been able to hide the plant sooner, he could have saved it from the Dursleys' clutches. He would have taken care of it, watered it, and left it out to grow beautiful and strong in the sunshine where it belonged. Now he would never get to gaze upon its vibrant petals up close again. All he had now was unfulfilled dreams and this limited view from the attic window.

* * *

Harry must have dozed off because the next thing he knew, he was being jolted awake by the violent rapping on his door.

With great trepidation, Harry went over and opened it to be greeted by his very expectant looking Aunt Petunia. She peered down her nose at Harry while tapping her heeled foot on the floor, arms akimbo.

“Well?” she demanded. “Where is it?”

“I'm sorry, Aunt Petunia. I couldn’t find anything," Harry replied and held his breath.

Her shrewd eyes flashed and her already thin lips pressed into a tight line. “Absolutely useless,” she spat. She looked at him as if he were the worst mistake God had ever made before gathering up her skirts to descend down the steep stairs once more. "Go to bed. There’ll be no supper for you tonight." And with that, she slammed the door closed. A moment later Harry heard the sound of the key in the lock and he sighed.

Running a hand through his already mussed black hair, Harry looked back out the small window. It was completely dark now and hardly anything could be seen of the garden.

Hardly anything except for a tiny light flicker in the distance. Had he imagined it? Harry crept closer to the window and saw a faint glow coming from one of the windows of Riddle manor. There was no mistaking it. But Harry had never seen any light come from those windows before. He should know; the sight of the pitch dark, ivy covered manor in the distance was the last thing he saw every night before he went to sleep.

But now Harry stared at a dim light flickering in one of the windows. The strangest thing about it was that the light was green. If not a candle, then what? Harry thought.

As if the sight tugged on a familiar thought, Harry stared down at his own hands and felt the subdued hum of that undefinable and now-familiar frisson he had started to feel growing inside him since eleven years old. He wished he knew why strange things seemed to happen to him. Talking to snakes, for one thing, Harry knew was not a normal ability most people possessed. And yet the strangeness only seemed to be getting worse the older he got. He was almost seventeen years of age now and felt as if something monstrous were bubbling inside him, begging to be let out. It was a burning itch beneath his skin that no matter what Harry did, would not abate. It vexed him to know he could not help soothe it in some way or other.

Harry looked about the dusty attic he lived in, now plunged into darkness. He may as well go to sleep. Perhaps in the morning he could sneak down to the kitchens before anyone else began to wake and steal a few slices of bread. The growling in his stomach seemed to agree with him.

* * *

Days passed and the Dursleys continued to put pressure on Harry to somehow find another rare plant. But Harry had combed through every inch of the garden and there was no flower nor shrub that was worth anything more than pittance. Eventually the Dursleys resorted to sitting out in the garden under umbrellas, fanning themselves (or having Harry do it) and lamenting. Long hours would find Aunt Petunia gazing forlornly out of her kitchen window at the tall wall separating them from the Riddle gardens. Harry rolled his eyes every time she let out a long, dramatic, and self-pitying sigh. If they did not let the entire thing go soon, Harry was sure he would lose his mind.

Harry should have known then, really; That it would all come to a head.

“Get up!” Came the familiar, high-pitched cry one morning. Accompanying this was the more loud rapping at his door and then the sound of a key in the lock. Harry inwardly groaned. “I said get up! You’re going to go over the wall today.”

Harry sprang straight up in bed. He was going to do  _what?_

Scrambling around for a reasonably clean set of clothes, he raced out the door and down the stairs to try and catch up with his aunt.

"Um, sorry -  ** _Why?_** " he said, hardly believing what he was hearing. Aunt Petunia looked at him as if he were mentally slow.

“You’re going to fetch us some more bulbs, of course," she said, as if it were the most simple thing in the world. Then she seemed to think of something, and added, “Well,  _anything_ , I suppose. One would hardly think that abnormal young man would even notice if a few plants went missing!” She harrumphed and crinkled her nose in distaste at the word ‘abnormal’. Or at the very thought of anyone even being remotely ‘strange’ or ‘bizarre’. “And it’s not as if he were _in want_ of anything, is he? I'm certain he can afford a few missing flowers.”

“Aunt Petunia - !” Harry began, but she cut off his protest with a scathing look and a raised, silk gloved hand.

“Enough! I will not hear another word. You can and you will and that’s the end of it,” she said with finality. “Now get outside. Your Uncle Vernon's left the ladder out for you.”

Harry stared at his aunt in disbelief. She could not possibly believe that he could do this?

Well, he probably could. But trespassing onto someone’s land? Never mind that said person was widely regarded as being wicked and dangerous. But then _stealing_ from said person?

Harry could only blink at the retreating form of his aunt and the swish of her long cotton skirts dragging across the floor as she left to go outside.

“Where is that blasted boy?!” Came the distant bellow of his uncle.

Harry closed his eyes and his shoulders fell in defeat. He would just have to go in and out. Swift and silent.

Surely it could not be that difficult of a task, Harry thought to himself.

* * *

Uncle Vernon practically shoved Harry up the ladder which leaned precariously against the large stone wall. “Come on, then!” he barked up at him. “We haven’t got all day.”

Harry inwardly cursed his relatives. If Dudley had not been trying to make this more difficult than it already was - by shaking the ladder as he climbed - he might have been able to obey his uncle faster. But he had managed it in the end, and finally reached the top of the wall. Pushing himself up on the ledge with his arms, Harry threw his leg over, hoisted, and quickly followed with the other leg.

Harry now crouched low on top of the wall and looked out over the view spread before him. The sight was so breath-taking he nearly fell off the wall altogether.

Stretched out before him, a lush and beautiful garden bloomed prosperously with all manner of plants, flowers, and trees of varying colours, shapes, and design. Harry had never imagined he would be able to see it up close like this. Or that the sliver of garden he saw from his bedroom window could even compare to what he saw now. He felt as if he were literally on top of the world.

“What the devil are you doing, boy? Stop being a freak and get the blasted plants!” The booming voice of his uncle drifted up to him. Harry glanced over his shoulder to his relatives below. Their scrutinizing and uncaring faces seemed so small from where he now stood, perched high atop the wall. Harry wishing he could ignore them but thought it best to get this over with as soon as possible. He faced the garden once more, looked down, and paused. 

Somehow neither Harry nor his relatives thought of how he might get down the other side of the wall.

While he thought, Harry spotted the mesh of vines creeping up along the wall beside him and gave one an experimental tug. It appeared sturdy enough. Grabbing it tightly with both hands, he began to carefully lower himself down the other side of the wall.

Once he reached the bottom Harry dusted off his hands, turned, and once again had to pause and admire the view. If the garden of Eden truly existed, then this must certainly be it. Harry was swiftly pulled back from his daydreaming by the distant sound of his uncle's grumbling noises from the other side of the wall. Not wanting to face the wrath of his uncle nor the estate owner if he should show up, Harry got to work.

Taking the bag from his shoulder, Harry began to carefully dig out some of the smaller plants and made sure to carefully preserve the roots before putting them in his sack. This way, he hoped the plant would be easier to travel with and not so easily squashed. 

Harry was well into the thick of the garden when he realized he was lost. Just as the small inklings of panic could set in, a distant sound made him pause in his tracks. It sounded like...

Whispering?

When Harry strained to listen, the sound seemed to be getting louder. Belatedly he realized that the he could make out words, and they were saying, “ _Kill, kill the thief. Prey in the master’s gardenssss, kill, kill, kill…._ ”

Harry jerked away from the spot he had been and without a second thought, he ran.

With lungs and limbs burning, Harry began to realise that everywhere he ran seemed to get him even further into the thick forest of a garden. And each time he chanced a look over his shoulder, there was no person in sight.

Yet the menacing voice kept coming stronger, louder, more threatening and closer than before.

“ _Thief! Burglar in the massster’s gardensss!!_ ” The voice hissed in rage, then sprang forth and Harry found himself stumbling face first into the dirt. Harry quickly scrambled backwards as the large glistening and smooth head of a snake slithered out of a thick bush. It reared its head and gazed venomously down at Harry. “ _Kill, kill the pesssssts,_ ” it hissed and then looked at if it were going to strike him when Harry threw out his hands and cried, “ _No! Wait!_ ”

A long moment passed where nothing happened and Harry feared he must have already perished. Or perhaps he was bitten and these were the effects of a poison taking him under? Yet when more time passed and no all-encompassing darkness, nor bright white light or angels or devils came to claim him, Harry eventually ventured to open his eyes. Looking out from behind his arms, the first thing he saw was the great head of a snake looming far too close to his own. It gazed at him with large yellow reptilian eyes that appeared almost curious.

“ _The thief underssstandss?_ ” it spit, and slithered closer towards Harry who had to forcibly keep himself still as the smooth head of the snake peered into his face. “ _How isss thiss posssible?_ ”

Harry swallowed before answering, “ _I - I don’t know..._ ”

The snake’s great head wavered for a moment as if in thought, then said, “ _The thief hasss come to sssteal my master’s plantssss._ ”

“ _Please,_ ” Harry said, his voice coming out surprisingly stronger than he thought was possible at that moment. “ _I haven’t taken anything. I was just…_ “ He floundered for words as he had, technically, been stealing the plants. However, voicing the truth did not seem to be the wisest course of action if he wished to preserve his life right at that moment. “ _Look. I’ll just be on my way. You’ll never have to see me again. No one will come and steal your master’s plants again. I swear it._ ”

A long silence passed where Harry began to grow anxious that the snake may not have believed him. But with a graceful and terrifying movement, it pulled back and coiled its tail neatly around itself.

“ _Leave now,_ ” The snake said, and Harry was more than willing to obey. Scrambling to his feet, he had only taken a few steps when the voice hissed out again, “ _I have a feeling we will be meeting again ssssoon, young thief._ ” And with those words the snake turned and slithered back into the nearest nest of bushes, completely disappearing from sight.

For the next moment Harry stared at the spot it had vanished while a cold shiver ran through him. He shrugged it off, eager to escape this forbidden maze of a garden. Exhaustion began to pull on his limbs from the ordeal of having narrowly escaped certain death, and he only wished to get back to the cool - albeit dusty - space of his small attic. What he had in his bag would surely be enough to satiate the Dursleys' greed for the time being. 


	3. Payment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had this whole chapter ready to go last night. Then a conversation over dinner with the flatmate convinced me to rewrite the whole thing… ( = A =;;) I regret nothing. (OK maybe some things.)
> 
> In other news, thank you again for the lovely and encouraging comments/kudos on the last chapter. I hope this one lives up to the wait! As you'll soon find out, I'm one of those very cautious and slow writers that agonize over every sentence.

The next day a knock came on the Dursley household. The family, who had been eating dinner at the time, looked to each other in bewilderment.

“I say! We're not expecting anyone, are we dear?” said Aunt Petunia, and cast a scandalised look to her husband. Uncle Vernon laid down his glass of wine with more force than necessary, sloshing out a few drops which stained the crisp linen tablecloth beneath. “You don’t suppose - “ she began again, and her eyes widened. “You don't suppose it might be someone who saw Harry the other day? Oh, Vernon!”

Uncle Vernon puffed up like an angry bulldog and looked to his nephew sitting on a stool a few feet away. “Boy!! You said they left you alone!”

“It - they did!” Harry said through a mouthful of potato he had been in the middle of eating when the knock came.

His uncle clearly did not believe him, however, and narrowed his eyes to slits. “You dare lie to me?” he said. 

“I’m _not_ lying. I swear!”

The knock came again, more insistent this time, and Vernon grumbled before standing to answer it. Heart hammering in his chest, Harry braced himself when the large man grabbed him roughly by the arm and marched him out the dining room, through the hall, and to the front door before practically throwing Harry against it. 

“Well? Open it!” Uncle Vernon hissed.

Swallowing down the wave of anxiety that suddenly came over him, Harry opened the door.

A tall, dark-skinned figure dressed in rather exotic but clearly rich clothing stood waiting on the step.

“I say, man! This isn't a very civilized hour to call upon someone! What is it you want?” Uncle Vernon barked, completely throwing aside etiquette at the sight of the strange foreign man. Anyone who looked like that and interrupted a good Englishman’s dinner, clearly did not warrant any civil manners from the Dursleys.

The strange man did not answer at first, but to raise two peculiar, yellow eyes at Harry’s uncle. Leveling him with a disconcerting stare, he spoke in a thick Indian accent.

“I have come for the boy, dear sir,” said the man.

“W-what? What on earth are you on about. What boy!”

This time the uneasy gaze fell on Harry, making the latter stiffen in apprehension. There was something eerily familiar about those eyes.

“My master has come for -” With a long and slightly crooked finger, he pointed at Harry. “-  _this_ serving boy. And as per the agreement made, I have come to collect him.”

Both Uncle and nephew were speechless for a moment until the older man blustered out, “I've heard of no such agreement! And you can tell your _master_ that the boy stays. We owe that man nothing, do you hear? Nothing!”

Harry was quite surprised at these words. One could almost mistake them for genuine attachment. But Harry knew better. It was more likely his uncle was only unwilling to give up the only ‘servant’ he had in the household. Harry prickled at the fact his uncle did not even bother to correct that title. He was no one's serving boy. Although he knew with no small amount of shame and fury that this was practically what he was made to be regardless.

“If this is how you wish it to be, then my master is forced to apprehend you with thievery under the law,” said the Indian man in a slow, almost condescending tone of voice. Every now and then his words would be broken by strange pauses. “However, you may also give retribution by paying the amount of how much you stole. This will include an additional tax of having committed an act of trespassing on my master’s grounds, of course.”

Uncle Vernon went positively pale at these words. Blithering, he begun to make incoherent and half-hearted sounds of protest. After a long moment of this he seemed to make up his mind though. He quickly spun round to face Harry who balked at the expression he saw on his uncle’s face.

“Go get your things in order. You’re leaving.”

Harry’s mouth gaped despite himself. “What? Surely you can't be serious,” he exclaimed.

“ _Yes._  I am! And I will not tolerate any more dithering and backtalk, you hear! Now, be off with you. You have a lot of packing to do.”

Harry' hands curled into fists at his sides. Yet any further protests died on his tongue when he glanced back at the stranger still standing on the doorstep. He had not moved an inch, seeming to watch the proceedings with a detached sort of interest. With blood boiling, Harry did not care whether he made a noise as he stomped back into the house to collect the meager amount of things he owned.

What a poor excuse for a family, Harry thought sourly. Selling him for practically nothing as if he were a slave rather than their own flesh and blood. Though despite his disgust with them, Harry also thought he had never felt more worthless in his life. 

 _At least,_ he thought with some bitter form of hope.  _Any place should be better than this one._

Of this he was sure.

* * *

When Harry returned he carried only a small trunk and nothing else but the clothes on his back. While he had been packing, it seemed Uncle Vernon had engaged the Indian man in a rather intense game of staring down the other. A game which seemed to be a losing battle for his uncle, Harry noted. As he neared the gate where they now stood, Harry glanced back to find his Aunt Petunia peering through the curtains of the house with her son’s squashed face next to hers.

“Well, I hope this means we’ll not have to see any more of the likes of you or your master ever again,” Uncle Vernon spat. He received only an eerie smile from the Indian man in return. Somehow the gesture made him look more unnerving.

“Oh, I assure you,” came the strange accent. “Lord Riddle feels quite the same way about you.”

The stranger then took Harry’s trunk from him and began to leave through the gate. Startled by the abrupt departure, Harry assumed this meant he was to follow. Sparing a quick glance over his shoulder to his uncle, Harry saw the man fuming and turning that familiar shade of red he always wore. He shoved Harry the last step out the little gate.

“Well, go on, then! Bloody good for nothing anyways…” Uncle Vernon grumbled.

All traces of hesitance left Harry then as he journeyed down the dirt path and away from the Dursley household. He spared not a single glance back to the pitiful excuse that he had once called family.

* * *

Immense trepidation crept slowly back into Harry as he neared the large manor. In the darkness, the estate appeared even more haunting and intimidating. It loomed like a great big bat on the inky horizon. The gravel pathway crunched beneath his feet as he followed the Indian man up to the large double doors, and watched in curiosity as the man pulled upon the large silver snake head knockers. Harry found this curious as most wealthy households tended to have someone waiting to receive them on the drive. But perhaps Harry was not important enough for that. Accepting this as the reason, Harry’s thoughts pulled back to the present when the great doors swung open to a reveal a grand hallway.

Stepping inside behind the Indian man, Harry stared up in awe at the tall, wood paneled ceiling, the rich decorative carpets, and curved staircase ahead. More rooms could be seen off to the right and left and Harry wondered if he would ever get the chance to explore them. The thought made him positively itch to do so, and then it dawned on him that he was going to _live_ in this place. Even if his quarters were to be a servants room, Harry was certain it would be a far greater luxury than what he experienced in the Dursley household.

It was only when Harry finally managed to strip his eyes away from his surroundings that he realized he was, all at once, quite alone. Heart kicking up in a sudden panic, Harry wondered how he had lost sight of the Indian man for he was nowhere to be seen. _What do I do now?_ Harry thought with some alarm. He took a few steps in each direction to peer into the closest rooms, hoping he might find someone willing to direct him as to where he must go.

“If the boy will follow me.”

Harry jumped almost a foot in the air at the sound of the voice coming from so close. He spun round and came face to face with the Indian man once again. How had he appeared so suddenly?

Yellow eyes bore into Harry's with an unwavering stare that gave off a slightly crazed look. Then Harry noticed there was no sign of his trunk in the man's hands. He must have briefly slipped away to hand it to a footman. There was no time to dwell on the matter however, as the strange man was slinking off towards the staircase now. Harry hurried to keep up, not wanting to let him out of his sight again.

As they walked, the Indian man began to speak.

“My master has requested that I convey a few conditions to the boy," he said in a sort of hissing whisper. "He insists you must abide by them if you are to stay in this household.”

At these words, Harry swallowed and cast an anxious glance beside him. Meanwhile his legs found it a challenge to match the long strides as the two ascended the staircase together.

“The first condition is that the boy must always address him properly. The second is to never venture into the east wing of this house. It is forbidden."

He waited for Harry to nod his understanding before continuing.

"The third requests that the boy must never disturb his Lordship in his study under any circumstances. Last of all, he asks that you be present for every meal and never leave the premises without his explicit permission.” 

Piercing golden eyes landed on Harry then, making the latter falter in his step.

“Does the thief understand?” The man asked.

Taken aback at first, Harry soon saw that there was no real malice behind the words. Nevertheless, Harry bristled at being told what to do. One would think he would be accustomed to it after all his years spent with the Dursleys. He felt foolish then for hoping that a new home would mean some new kind of freedom. He was now slowly beginning to realize how very wrong he was. If anything, it sounded as if Harry were going to be made a prisoner here as well.

Harry found himself jerking his head in grudging acceptance nonetheless. It might as well be a prison he chose.

From the casual labeling of Harry as a 'thief', Harry wondered if the rest of the staff held any resentment that he had tried to steal from the gardens. Would he be met with even more hostility from them? Harry was not given time to ponder these implications, however, as the dark-skinned man turned to walk down a dimly lit corridor.

As they walked, Harry had to wonder where he was being lead. He found it slightly odd that they had not passed by a single maid, footman, or any member of staff at all. Harry opened his mouth to ask after it but then thought better. Clearly he had not started off on the right foot with this man and thought it best he did not provoke further animosity between them. Harry therefore decided it best to keep silent on the matter for the time being.

Eventually they stopped at a large engraved wooden door and Harry stared. These were certainly not doors to a servants' quarters. They were not even on the same floor a servants' quarters would be located. Perhaps...?

“Your rooms,” The man stated simply. Harry's eyes widened as the man took out a key and unlocked the door.

“You will be called upon in an hour for dinner,” said the man. And without further preamble, he turned on his heel and left. Harry watched as the lanky figure disappeared into the shadows of the dim hallway.

Shuddering at the suddenly eerie atmosphere of the manor, Harry turned to push the door open. It creaked painfully when he did so, telling him that these rooms were not in use much at all here. When he entered the room it smelled a bit like dust and trapped air. Harry went over to an elegant oil lamp on the nightstand and took it up before walking over to the window. He then pulled open the heavy curtains and coughed as a thin cloud of dust released into the air.

Harry stepped back and watched as the moonlight shone brightly through the windows, illuminating the room in a silver glow. Harry could only stare. The room was certainly bigger than any one he had ever stayed in. Yet it felt cold and unwelcome. Too dark and strange. But there was nothing for it, as he would simply have to get used to it. It was a far better deal than staying in his tiny attic at the Dursley’s, in any case.

Looking around, Harry noticed with an acute sense of surprise that his trunk had been placed at the foot of his bed.

He marveled once more as he went over and opened it. It was indeed his trunk. But how it come to be here without him seeing a single person pass by? Perhaps there were secret passages? 

Harry shook these thoughts away with a shiver and rummaged through his trunk before groaning in defeat. He had nothing suitable to wear for a dinner in a Lord’s manor!

His eyes swept over the room and landed on a large oak wardrobe in the corner. Going over to it, Harry fully expected it to be empty. But upon opening it, he found a rack of clothes filed neatly inside. He perused through them with curiosity. Just as one would expect, they were all richly made in material. His eyes caught on something then and when Harry took out a hanger, he noted a small handwritten tag attached to the wire hook.

His eyes widened at what he read:

Harry's mind raced as he wondered how his name could possibly be written on these tags. For every single hanger in the wardrobe had on it the same name, written neatly in green ink.

Harry began to doubt if he should even trust that these garments were meant for him. As far as he knew, there could be another Mr. H Potter, could there not? And if there were, it suddenly felt very perturbing to wear them. He pondered over the matter for some time before deciding he would rather risk the uneasy feeling than anger the occupants of the manor.

Donning the clothes he could find, he passed up on other pieces he could not determine how to even put upon his person.

In the end he supposed he looked acceptable. If a little stiff and uncomfortable, the clothes fit his body surprisingly well. Far better than his cousin’s cast offs in any case.  
  


* * *

When the hour struck seven a knock sounded upon the door.

Harry jerked in surprise before he calmed himself to answer. “Yes?” he called.

The door creaked open slightly to reveal the lanky body of the dark-skinned man. “Dinner is prepared,” came the low accent.

Harry rose from the dresser where he had been trying in vain to tame his wild hair. Running his moist palms over the rich fabric of his coat, he walked over to the door to accompany the man to the dining room.

The journey proved silent and did nothing for Harry’s nerves.

Before they reached the bottom of the staircase the soft tinkle of musical notes distracted Harry. They became clearer as they neared the dining room and it was then that Harry realized someone was playing the piano. Once they had finally reached the room, Harry's eyes immediately alighted upon an elegant silhouette sat at the piano near one end of the room. Harry felt as if he were entranced. He gazed unabashedly upon the erect posture of a slender man in a sharp black morning coat. Long pale fingers expertly moved across the keys of the piano while in turn, the music came flawless and utterly beguiling. 

“The thief, my Lord,” The Indian man announced. Harry cast him a wary glance before he was left alone with the lord of the manor.

The music stopped and a moment of silence passed before the figure eventually turned from the piano. In one seamless movement, he rose from the stool and faced Harry. Once he did, all thought seemed to fly from Harry’s head for the second time that evening.

Harry could only stare in helpless awe at the graceful form clad in exceptionally fine clothing. From the green silk cravat he wore round his throat, to the well-tailored morning coat and trousers, the attire only accentuated the man's long and lean figure. When he drew near, Harry noted him to be quite handsome as well. Exceptionally so, even. While not in a strictly masculine way, there was a graceful beauty to the smooth, pale complexion of his face. From the soft and sensual shape of his mouth, the man was a far cry from the terrifying and blood-thirsty maniac people in town rumoured him out to be. Even his hair was immaculately neat and groomed, and closely resembled Harry’s own in colour.

Then cold, calculating eyes latched onto Harry’s and the latter could not tear his gaze away.

“Good evening, Mr Potter.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The music Tom plays → ([x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NONg06Pf0v8)) In case anyone was interested. :)


	4. The Manor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one's a little short. I've kind of run out of pre-written chapters, so be warned: updates might be a little slow in coming from now on. But once again, bless you all for your reviews, kudos, etc. They are my sustenance. (Shut up, I’m not crying, you’re crying.)

His voice was rich and smooth and rang crystal clear in a way Harry found entirely too pleasant. It gave Harry some apprehension and made him react far too slow, so that he could do nothing except continue to stare at the other man in silence.

Lord Riddle, it appeared, was apparently willing to wait.

“How do you know my name?” Were the only words that eventually came out of Harry’s mouth and he silently berated himself for it.

The handsome man only smiled in return. An action which made Harry suppress an involuntary shudder. By the way it did not reach the other man's pale eyes, Harry could tell it was not a sincere gesture in the slightest. The following answer only proved their falseness. 

"You think I would not know the name of the one who stole from me?” Despite his words, Riddle’s eyes remained blank and non accusatory. Harry had the decency to look away anyway, which caused him to miss the slight twitch at the corner of the other man's mouth before it disappeared altogether.

Lord Riddle slowly made his way forward and Harry had the urge to back away. He remained still, however, wanting to face the other man with a bravery he did not feel. Something unnamed gleamed in Riddle’s eyes at this boldness before passing just as quickly as it appeared.

“ _I trust your way here was safe?_ ” Lord Riddle asked, and Harry once again returned his gaze.

It suddenly occurred to him then that Riddle was not really asking him. Ever since Harry was subject to being in the other man’s presence, he felt an uneasiness in his gut which he could not shake. He saw that the young Lord’s eyes were too sharp, too devious and canny. As if he were not really asking Harry, but more as if he were testing him. Harry burned inside to figure out as to why.

“ _Yes. Thank you,_ ” Harry replied. As soon as he did, something feral momentarily flashed through Riddle’s eyes which took Harry aback.

“ _You may address me as ‘my Lord’._ ”

“ _Very good... my Lord._ ”

Seeming satisfied by this answer, the young Lord did nothing to put Harry at ease as he turned to the table in the middle of the room. All trace of emotion vanished from Lord Riddle's face to be replaced by his previous waxen façade of politeness. “Very well,” he said simply, and paused a few steps away from the table to add over his shoulder, “Please dine with me, Mr Potter.”

They each took their seats, Riddle at the head of the table and Harry at the other end. It was a very strange arrangement since the length of the table made it feel very impersonal and lonely. Yet Harry found he was more than appeased with this arrangement, not wanting to converse much with the man anyway.

It was only halfway through the meal when the silence was broken.

“Speak your mind, Mr Potter.”

Startled at the sound of Riddle’s voice, Harry’s eyes snapped up to find the other man had not even seemed to be looking in his direction. Harry wondered briefly if mind reading were one of Riddle’s rumored inhuman abilities. But Harry quickly shook away the childish thought to answer.

“I simply wondered where the other members of staff are, my Lord.”

Lord Riddle briefly glanced up at Harry before speaking. “There is only one member of staff,” he said slowly. “And even that is not quite an accurate term for him. He is more of a… companion, of sorts.” This was apparently all he had to say in response, as he then trailed off into silence.  

“I see,” Harry said, but felt he was far from understanding.

Lord Riddle’s eyes seemed to shine briefly as if catching onto this sentiment. But it was so gone so fast that Harry was uncertain it were there at all. He was beginning to find it particularly difficult to read the other man.

“His name is Nagini. I had the good fortune of meeting him while travelling a few years ago in India,” Lord Riddle said to Harry’s unspoken question. Then he took a sip from his wine glass before his eyes lazily began to watch the blood red liquid inside. “He's proven to be quite useful and tolerable company, I suppose. Far preferable than having mindless idiots bumbling about the house. Always jabbering away while sticking their noses into things that are none of their concern...” His glassy eyes then gradually slid up to meet Harry’s who felt himself caught as if in a spider’s web. _Then why bring **me** into your household all of a sudden?_ Was the thought that came to Harry’s mind, but decided he might as well let it go. Instead, he pried his eyes back to his meal, having a new found appreciation for the Indian man all of a sudden. To manage an entire household such as this one should have been near impossible single-handed.

“So tell me, Mr Potter.”

Harry tensed in preparation for the new line of questioning.

“How does one such as yourself come to be a serving boy for such… unsavoury people?”

Harry's blood soared. “I’m not!” he cried, surprising himself and Lord Riddle with how forcefully it had come out.

Yet Lord Riddle only raised a delicate brow. “I beg your pardon?” he said. 

“I’m not… a serving boy,” Harry said, then added as an afterthought, “My Lord.” He averted his gaze as a last show of humility.

A glint of something unnameable passed through Riddle’s eyes. “No, indeed,” he said after some time. “After all, I should think a serving boy with a tongue such as yours would find it difficult to find any work.”

Harry bit his lip, slightly stung and fully chastised.

“I trust Nagini has told you of my conditions,” Lord Riddle said all of a sudden.

Harry did not meet the other man's gaze when he replied, “Yes, my Lord.”

“And you will follow them?”

A moment passed where Harry's hand clenched the grip on his knife. “I will,” he answered stiffly.

The clear reluctance in his tone and posture did not escape Riddle’s notice. Yet he found that instead of bothering him, it had quite the opposite effect. A spark of a challenge could be felt stirring within him. Regarding the younger male now, he wanted nothing more than to see how far he could be pushed and what it might look like when he broke.

“I look forward to knowing you, Mr Potter,” Lord Riddle said slowly, as if tasting the words on his tongue. “It is my belief that... we will make good friends. I only hope you will come to feel the same. In time.” 

Harry might have believed the words had an ominous not smile twisted the other man's lips just then.

Harry let his silence be the only reply.

* * *

That night Harry found sleep to be particularly challenging. The dinner and conversation only hours before chased through his mind in dizzying circles. Not least of all, Harry could still feel the remnants of that presence. The indefinable _something_ that seemed to make the itch beneath Harry’s skin bubble and percolate. Altogether the evening was made that much more unbearable because of it.

Only until the early hours of the morning did exhaustion finally overcome Harry and he fell into a fitful sleep.

He was soon roused again when the full force of the morning sun shone directly onto his face. Harry squinted blearily at the offending source of light and groaned. Grabbing the nearest object - a far too soft pillow to belong to him - Harry used it to cover his head. Then he took a moment as disorientation passed through him and wondered why he was not in his tiny room in the Dursley’s attic. When the answer finally sprung to his sleep-addled mind, Harry sat straight up in bed.

This was Riddle manor. He was _inside Riddle manor_.

A knock on the door jolted Harry from this small revelation and, scrambling for a robe to put on, he called out with a sleep-roughened voice.

“Yes, come in!”

Nagini’s lanky form seemed to materialize on the other side of the door to startle Harry.

“The master wishes to know why you have not made your appearance at breakfast this morning,” said Nagini.

Harry froze while his eyes widened in dawning horror. _Merciful God on earth, he had completely overslept!_

"Oh, that's - I'm so terribly sorry - Right. Yes. I’ll - " Harry bumbled out as he turned to race around for something decent to put on. “I’ll be there momentarily. I’m coming down right at this... very… _oof!"_  Harry fumbled with one of his boots and managed to pull too hard, consequently elbowing himself in the stomach.

Nagini stared down his nose at the young man curiously as if he were studying an insect. “I shall inform the master,” he said and slipped out the room as silent as always, leaving Harry to continue his fumbling task alone.   


* * *  


When Harry managed to make it downstairs, he found the large mahogany dining table from last night now covered in a crisp, white, linen tablecloth. Glistening silverware and porcelain plates had been neatly set out while the waft of bacon, toast, and eggs filled his nose. Harry's stomach rumbled hungrily.

“Mr Potter,” came the smooth, clear voice. _Like velvet_ , Harry supplied, then inwardly swatted the thought away. Despite the pleasantness of the tone, it did not cease the flood of dread he felt upon hearing it. He slowly turned towards the lord of the manor sitting primly at the head of the table.

The other man regarded Harry with cool, detached eyes. “It's so good of you to join me,” he said.

“Er - yes... Um…” Harry trailed off before planting himself into the seat at the other end of the table just as he had done last night. He glanced warily over at Lord Riddle who seemed to have turned his attention to a folded newspaper beside his plate.

“So tell me,” Riddle said after some time, and flipped a page of the newspaper. The rustling sound scraped Harry's nerves raw as he waited for the man to continue. “Should I expect any more rules to be broken within the next twenty-four hours?”

Harry felt his face heat with remorse. “No, my Lord,” he hastily replied, and debated whether he should dare to explain himself. In the end, Harry’s pride took over and he said, “It must have been that I... overslept, my Lord. The bed is quite comfortable you see.”

Harry smiled weakly as Lord Riddle’s eyes raised to meet his across the table. Harry noted that the unnerving gaze had not lost any of its intensity since last night. The blue of them only seemed more stark now in the light of morning.

“I see.”

This is all Riddle said by way of reply on the matter before a long and strained silence took over.

Just when Harry thought he might go insane from being under such scrutiny any longer, Riddle finally flicked his gaze away to Harry’s plate.

“Please. Do help yourself,” he said in a casual manner before disappearing behind his paper once more.

Harry need not have been told twice. While in the care of the Dursleys, Harry’s cousin had always stolen off his plate. Or aunt Petunia would find some wrongdoing to punish him by and frequently withheld meals, never giving Harry the chance to eat a full proper one in quite some time. It was rather exhilarating to know that he need not hold back now.

The rest of breakfast continued on in relative silence while the tension defrosted little by little. Occasionally Riddle would engage in some small talk but otherwise the meal was spent in an almost companionable peace.

When Harry returned to his rooms later, the first thing he did was go over to the large windows and draw closed the heavy curtains. Once sunlight was fully blocked, he then stripped down to his shirt and trousers before curling back into bed to sleep. After all, he had nothing else he need do. Something for which Harry found to be quite a novelty.


	5. Discoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Harry should not be left alone unsupervised and Nagini is a bad babysitter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. I finally managed to beat this chapter into submission.  
> Also, I have no idea if people in the 1800’s knew what a wand was. So for now it’s just going to have to be called really embarrassing names okay.

The first week passed in a haze of awkward tension and stiff formality as Harry tried to find some form of routine in the grand manor. He would spend meals with his Lordship before the other man vanished into whatever corner of the house he would. Then Harry would be left to his own devices, seeing nothing of the other gentleman at all for the rest of the day. So it came to be of no surprise that by the time Harry's third week passed in the manor, he found himself suffering from a terrible case of ennui. To alleviate the some of it, Harry took up to exploring what he could of the manor. That is, everywhere except for the east wing, of course. (He made sure to always keep far away from the darker side of the house, only glancing toward it with a mild curiosity before he walked the other way.) 

But it was the gardens to which Harry yearned to return. He dreamed of getting lost in the maze of bushes and greenery, only to be whisked away on some wild adventure the very next moment. Every day his eyes gazed out the windows of the manor to the colourful utopia below, traveling over it before disappearing into the deep wood beyond. Harry had managed to content himself with reading books from the library, but far preferred the outdoors and physical activity. Nothing could compare to breathing in the crisp air, full of life and precious sunshine the fickle English weather sparingly granted in summer.  

So it was as they lunched one day in the dining room that Harry finally ventured to ask.

“If I may, my Lord,” Harry started, and blue eyes rose slowly from their plate to look at him. “Allow me to tend to the gardens.”

“There is no need,” Came the swift reply. A dismissive gesture accompanied this as Lord Riddle moved to get up.

“But that cannot be! Surely Nagini does not work the entire premises…” Harry said, moving to stand as well. Dubiousness tinged his tone along with a slight desperation.

Lord Riddle stared at the younger male for a long moment before taking a slow breath. “You wish to explore the gardens then?” he said. “Please do so. But believe me when I tell you they require no attention. I will not say it again, Mr Potter.”

Harry twitched in frustration but nodded his compliance. He could not help but wonder how the man possibly kept a garden as large as his but not have someone tend to it every now and then. It only impressed upon Harry the idea that there was something he was missing here. Of this he was certain.

“Thank you, my Lord,” said Harry.

The elder gentleman gave a small, regal nod before he left.

Harry stood there in the dining room for a time, feeling the early afternoon sun warm his back through the open curtains. A prickle of anticipation ran down his spine at the thought of seeing the gardens again as he stared at the place Lord Riddle had been only moments before.  
  


* * *  
  


Beads of sweat formed on Harry's brow as he glared down at the particularly stubborn weed he had been trying to pull out for the past few minutes. The sun was high and strong today, beating down on him and making his skin quickly damped with perspiration. It was not long before he had forgone his shirt entirely and rolled up his trouser legs to the knees.

It was only when the prickle on the back of his neck became an itch that Harry was alerted to the sense of being watched. He straightened and looked round but saw no one else in the garden. Then a movement from the corner of his eye caused him to glance upwards.

A pale shadow flickered past one of the windows of the manor. Harry stared at the closed curtains which he could have sworn were open before. Wiping his brow, Harry shrugged it off before going back to work.  
  


* * *  
  


That day Lord Riddle found himself doing what he had not done in a very long time. If asked what possessed him to come out of his study, he would have said it was the simple wish of acquiring some fresh air. But the fact remained that the idea only occurred to him after witnessing his ward working hard in the gardens, shirtless and glistening from the sun.

There was something about the pale spot of movement in the sea of vibrant colour that Lord Riddle rather liked. To see visible evidence that life and time actually moved forward outside of his manor was something of an awakening. And strangely compelling. He found he wanted it for himself - that fascinating, moving, living object out in his gardens.

When Riddle eventually stepped outside he found the work had left Harry’s skin sun-kissed and slightly pink.

“My, Mr Potter,” came Riddle's silky, resonating tone. “I hope the neighbourhood girls don't see you in such a state of undress. I fear they should blush and faint at the mere sight of it.”

Colour rose high on Harry’s face, making him positively glow red with the combined heat of the sun. “Good afternoon, my Lord,” he stammered, feeling suddenly self-conscious and vulnerable in front of this immaculately dressed and well-put-together man.

The corner of Riddle’s mouth curled up slightly. “Goodday,” he replied.

They both looked at one another for a while longer before Harry seemed to realize he was half-naked. Hurriedly, he snatched his shirt off the ground and went to put it on. Riddle looked away then, allowing him some degree of privacy.

“I thought I had informed you the garden should be left untouched,” Riddle said, gaze returning to Harry once more. The cool eyes were unwavering.

Harry ducked his head sheepishly. “Yes, well - It was just that I saw a weed growing. And I thought, perhaps, there would be no harm if I were to… remove it…” Harry trailed off uselessly, hands rubbing themselves together in an attempt to clean off the caked dirt there.

“Is that so?” Riddle said. Harry gestured to the crop of weeds which seemed to be choking a bush of roses. Lord Riddle frowned. “That is… unusual,” he murmured, almost to himself. Harry cleared his throat as it looked that Riddle might go off in his own thoughts at any moment.

“It's really no trouble, my Lord. I'd much like to keep myself busy, give me something to do...”

Riddle seemed to ponder this for a moment.

“Yes, very well,” Riddle eventually said. The brim of his sun hat tipped towards Harry before he turned to leave. “Until this evening then, Mr Potter.”

It was not a question. It never was.  


* * *  


Following the normal silent affair of dinner that night Harry had been wandering around the manor. A restless energy stirred within him that provoked him to venture through the twisting halls and staircases of Riddle Manor. When he came upon voices just short of the staircase, he stopped to hide himself behind a wall. Harry strained his hearing so that he could hear the conversation down in the main hall.

“ _A promising opportunity has arisen, Nagini,_ ” Lord Riddle’s voice could be heard. “ _I trust you'll be sure to keep an eye on... our guest._ ”

“ _Yessss, masssster._ ”

“ _Very good. I will return shortly. If these Blacks turn out to be trustworthy, I feel we may have acquired a substantial ally. And should fortune favours us, the…_ persuasion... _will not take too long._ ”

Harry furrowed his brow. Who was Riddle trying to get on his side? And for what purpose?

The sound of the front doors closing signaled Lord Riddle’s exit. Harry quickly turned to walk silently back down the hall to his rooms should he be caught wandering by Nagini. Yet the questions continued to run through mind, distracting him. It was only when he finally realized where he was that Harry stopped.

Somehow Harry had ended up at the threshold to the east wing. He stared down the dark corridor and felt as if he were looking into a great abyss. It stared back, calling out to him to come closer.

 _I must be mad_ , Harry thought, as he took a tentative step forward. He knew the East Wing was strictly forbidden, yet he could not stop his foot from taking a step forward. The east wing was the only part of the manor he had not explored yet. Therefore it was with a burning curiosity and far too active a sense of adventure that eventually propelled Harry down the gloomy hall.

Once he got to the end of it, Harry tried a few doors but found to his dismay that most of them were locked. A thought struck him then.

Looking around once, Harry made sure he was quite alone before turning back to one of the doors. Taking hold of the knob, Harry closed his eyes and tried to imagine the lock, forcing that crackling, white-hot feeling to travel through to his fingertips. It took a few exhaustive tries (Harry never could get it the first time anyway. It was a trick he used sparingly when he was locked in the Dursley’s attic.) but he finally felt the brass doorknob shudder and become warm against his palm. Then came the satisfying _click!_ and Harry was in.

The first thing Harry noticed about the room was that it was a study.

 _He was in Lord Riddle’s study_.

Harry swallowed hard and suddenly felt compelled to flee. To lock the door shut behind him and never turn back. But something stilled his retreat.

At the far end of the room, situated just before the windows, sat a large and elegantly carved ebony desk. Strewn atop it was an inkwell, books, papers, notes, and most peculiarly, an animal skull of some kind. His curiosity overcoming anything else, Harry moved over to the desk. He peered down at the elegant hand-written notes and pages of text. It seemed to be research of some kind. Although of what type, Harry could not be sure. Perhaps folklore…?

Dismissing the papers and desk altogether, Harry felt compelled to continue his exploration of the study. After all, he never knew when he might ever see it again. So he turned his attention to the other side of the room where the entire wall was covered by an immense bookshelf filled with books and tomes of all kinds, old and new. A small section of the shelves seemed to hold something uniquely different, however. Stepping closer Harry almost recoiled in disgust at the pickled jars of… _God knew what_. He did not particularly want to find out either. And so dismissing that as well, Harry then went over to the fireplace next.

Harry stopped when he found that it the fire was… green? Harry had assumed there was a green tinted lamp in the study when he came in. But now that he saw there was none, it must have been the fire.

Going over to it, Harry crouched before the green flames that tainted the whole study in an emerald hue.

It was warm.

Staring at the flickering green flames, Harry cautiously reached out his hand. The warmth did not grow in intensity. Puzzled, Harry’s hand ventured a little further and managed to end up right inside the flames. But there was still no scorching heat nor burning sensation. Withdrawing his hand from the fire, Harry stared in wonderment from his hand to the flames. _How could this be…?_

Mind racing, Harry stood up after a time and his gaze almost immediately landed on a painting.

It was a large, gilded framed painting of an ocean landscape. The curious thing about it, however, was that it gave Harry the sense it was alive somehow. Peering closely, Harry almost stumbled over backwards in shock.

The painting was _moving!_  There was doubt about it. When he looked closer, Harry saw that the waves rippled and swelled, lapping and slamming against a ship in the distance. White sails billowed and strained in a non-existent yet ferocious wind as it cut through the storm. All the while waves continued to batter against it’s belly, unceasing, sending sprays crashing off it.

Harry stared in fascination and awe before tearing his gaze back to the strange green fireplace below. _How was all this possible?_ Harry thought. Was this the same kind of thing that made Harry able to do inexplicable things? Was this the same force that gave him his ability to talk to snakes, unlock doors, and cause Dudley to sometimes trip over nothing when he was angry?

That is when Harry’s eyes fell on the smooth, ebony box resting on the mantelpiece. What looked like a lion and a snake intertwined was carved into the wood. Harry ran his fingers over the image reverently before carefully opening it.

Inside the box lay an interestingly carved wooden stick embedded in a plush, velvet cushion. Harry then noticed a second groove in the velvet where another one should have been. He vaguely wondered what happened to it and what exactly it was in the first place. Some kind of souvenir from one of Riddle’s travels to far off lands? A conductor’s baton? Harry gingerly plucked the piece of wood out of it’s case and held it.

As soon as he did this, however, Harry felt an immediate sense of _rightness_ flood through him. It fit in his hand perfectly, being just the right weight and shape as well as prompting an easy flow of movement to his wrist if he should wave it. Which, when he did, a sudden spark erupted from the tip, shooting out like a bullet to crash into the large bookshelf opposite.

A jar of small bones exploded, sending dust and glass all over the floor along with some books. The bookcase shuddered for a moment afterwards, making the pickling jars rattle and clink together on the shelves.

Harry stared. First at the shelf and the mess there. Then back down at his hand where the obviously magical instrument lay in his grasp.

Then, slowly, a smile began to twitch at Harry’s lips. Not before long he was soon grinning like a mad man. _How marvelous!_ He thought. He wished he knew what this all was, this feeling. But now he knew. Or at least Riddle would seem to know.

_Lord Riddle…_

Could Harry even ask him to explain it? Harry was not even supposed to be in his study in the first place. He did not think Riddle would take too kindly to that fact that he had been in here. A thrill of fear ran through him at the thought of being caught and he sobered, his manic smile from before completely gone now. Sighing softly to himself, Harry glanced back down at the magical instrument in his hand. He had best return it. 

Harry started to move away when his back come into contact with something behind him. The sloshing and rattling sound made Harry whip round to catch or steady whatever it was. In the end it turned out to be what looked to Harry like a bird bath. Or one of those stone basins of holy water they had in churches. But what caught his attention was that even after he steadied it, the water inside continued to swirl and ripple. Peering closely, Harry watched in amazement as colours and images started to reflect on its surface. Then his whole head suddenly submerged itself in the water, seemingly of it’s own accord.

Harry felt as if he were being pulled bodily through time. His whole world spun for what seemed like ages until finally coming to a violent, jerking stop.


	6. Wrath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's starting to look like Nagini may have an agenda of his own now...? Who knew. Also, warnings for language in this chapter. (Not a lot - Just one word really.)

Harry took a moment to gather his bearings before he bothered to look where he was.

It turned out he was in a familiar yet unfamiliar setting. Harry was mostly certain he was still in Riddle manor, though he had no recognition of the room he was in. It was dark and gloomy as most of the manor was prone to be. The only light source in the room came from the fireplace which looked as if were going to be snuffed out at any moment. Meanwhile rain poured down outside and pattered against the windows. Wind howled and lightning flashed, illuminating the room every few minutes. In the middle of the room sat a large and elegant high-backed chair. When Harry moved to the side, he could see the shadowed profile of a man sitting in it.

A knock sounded upon the door and Harry turned to see it creak open. He watched as the figure of Lord Thomas Riddle emerged from the doorway with another man in butler livery following close behind.

“My Lord - !“ Harry began then stopped when neither Riddle nor the butler reacted to his call. They did not seem to even know he was there at all. Could they not see him? Harry moved forward so that he was only a few steps away from Riddle. Still the other man did not register his presence at all.

“There is a young man here come to see you, your lordship,” announced the butler. The man in the chair did not respond until he repeated, “Your lordship?”

An irritated grunt preceded the growling reply, “I thought I made it specifically clear to you, Roberts, that I wish to see _no one_.”

“Yes, your lordship. However, this man claims to be a relation of yours and - “ Roberts began to hastily explain when the man in the chair cut him off. 

“Leave us.”

The butler paled slightly but nodded before leaving the room.

A long silence filled with tension descended. Lord Riddle walked slowly into the room to stop just short of the chair. The voice spoke up once more.

“Why are you here? I thought I got rid of you once and for all.”

Harry saw the slight flinch in response to the words before Riddle quickly regained his composure. A muscle in his jaw worked before he responded. “Come now, father," Lord Riddle said. "Is that any way to greet your only blood heir?”

“NEVER ADDRESS ME THAT WAY AGAIN!” Came the venomous reply. “ _You_ are **_not_** my son!”

A darkly sinister smile twisted Riddle’s lips and he stepped forward once more to position himself behind the chair. His long leather-clad hands gripped the top as he leaned down slightly. “Oh, you would like that wouldn't you?” Riddle said to the top of his father's head. 

The older man slowly rose from his chair with what seemed to be some difficulty. When he finally stood and faced his son, Harry was amazed at the uncanny resemblance. The only visible difference seemed to be that the younger Riddle still possessed the beauty of youth along with a fairer complexion. But the eyes and structure of the face were the same. It caused Harry to wonder what Riddle's mother must look like to produce such a beautiful man.

“The fact still remains, dear father, that I am your son,” Lord Riddle continued as he removed the wet leather gloves from his delicate fingers. “Deeply unfortunate, I know…” He then proceeded to withdraw something from his cloak and Harry’s eyes widened. It was a wooden stick much like the one he had found in Riddle's study.  _It must be the one that was missing from the box_ , Harry thought.

The elder Riddle also seemed to stare at the object, though his gaze held a wildly differing emotion.

Pure fear laced Riddle's father's expression before being quickly taken over with disgust and loathing. “So I see that _witch’s_ blood managed to corrupt you as well. It is no surprise,” he sneered.

In a movement far too quick for Harry to see, Lord Riddle pointed the length of wood at his father’s throat. The older man tensed in obvious terror; Harry frowned in confusion and growing apprehension.

“Don’t you **_dare_** speak of her that way, _**old man,**_ ” Riddle hissed and fiercely pressed the object into aging skin. His father only laughed; An ugly, mocking sound.

“You have no clue who your mother even was! How can you defend that pagan _witch!"_

“I know she would have kept me if you hadn’t thrown her in the mad house, you disgusting piece of filth!"

Riddle's fathers lips curled into a malicious smile. “Ahhh, it seems I was wrong," he said. "No, you are nothing like her. See, that cunt worshiped the ground I walked on. Perhaps I should have kept her around if only so that she could lick my boots - "

He was unable to finish his sentence as Riddle let out a passionate cry of some foreign word or two. A bright flash of green light then shot from the tip of the object jabbing into his father's throat, lighting up the whole room for a brief moment. When in the next it disappeared and Harry watched in horror as the older man's eyes had widened, mouth slackened, and he slumped to the ground in a lifeless heap.

Blood rushed through Harry's ears as he stood there staring in shock. Distantly he could feel himself being pulled back through time again until his face lifted from the pool of water. He gasped in lungfuls of air like he had been drowning and his hands shook as they gripped the rim of the basin. His mind felt numb trying to process what he had just seen. Harry slowly lifted a hand to his face and froze at the sound of a door closing behind him.

“Congratulations, Mr Potter," said a familiar voice. “You've now managed to break all three out of four rules I set out for you.”

Harry turned to find steel-coloured eyes pinning him with a dark, swirling fury. He was suddenly reminded of the look Riddle wore just before he killed his father.

“You tread on very thin ice, Mr Potter,” Lord Riddle continued in a low, dangerous tone. “And you can rest assured I will not tolerate any further breaking of the rules.”

Harry saw Riddle slowly begin to stalk towards him and he cautiously backed away. His heart banged like a drum in his chest. The vicious look in Riddle's expression took him aback but he forced himself to stand firm.

“Why?” said Harry. "Why did you... What had he done to deserve such a thing?" 

More anger flashed through Lord Riddle's gaze and his perfect lips curled with a snarl. “ _Why?_ ” he hissed, and began to take very conscious breaths, as if trying to calm himself. “ _You_ have no right to be asking such questions since it is you that has broken into my study - " He stopped suddenly and took one quick, sharp breath. In a more dark and ominous tone he simply said, “Leave.”

At first Harry did not seem to register the command until it was repeated.

“I said _leave!_ You have angered me, Mr Potter,” said Lord Riddle as an almost shaky laugh escaped his lips. “And believe me when I say it is not a wise thing to do so. For you see, I wield far more power than you can even imagine."

Harry forced himself to hold the other man’s furious gaze and attempted to reflect his understanding and accusation. “I think I can imagine…” he said.

For one brief moment Lord Riddle’s eyes seemed to flash red. Then with a growl of anger, the man whipped forth the wand Harry had seen in the memory. Just as the spell fell from Riddle’s lips, Harry raised up the hand which still held the other wand.

A loud cracking sound erupted as the spell was swiftly deflected.

There was a brief moment as Lord Riddle could only stare in dumbfounded shock. But he soon recovered enough to start throwing one spell after another at Harry, face contorted in anger as he pushed forward. It was all Harry could do to try and meet every one of Riddle’s attacks with his own flick of the wrist. He was quite successful for some time until his back abruptly hit the wall and caused a distraction Harry could not afford.

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ” cried Riddle.

Harry’s wand was abruptly torn from his grasp, leaving him completely open to the next attack. When it came, Harry hastily managed to dodge it by a mere second through flinging himself to the side. He scrambled on the stone floor to hide behind the desk and try get the wand back. He could have sworn it had landed somewhere in the area...

Riddle gave him no time, however, as he promptly appeared to point his wand down at Harry in the next moment. In desperation, Harry threw a wild kick upwards that managed to knock the wand clean out of Riddle’s grasp.

Despite being unarmed, this did not stop Riddle from reaching down to roughly grab Harry by his wrists.

As soon as he did this, the young Lord suddenly recoiled with a howl of pain. He stumbled backward and clutched at his hands which emitted strange wisps of vapor like smoke. When Riddle threw a look to Harry, the latter found that his eyes held a ferocious and manic kind of fear in them. It was more emotion than Harry had ever seen from Lord Riddle since arriving in the manor.

“GET OUUUTT!” The older male roared and Harry hastened to his feet. He backed out of the room as quickly as possible and could only rip his eyes away when he reached the corridor. The sight of Lord Riddle in his molten rage and fury was the last Harry saw before running back down to his rooms.  


* * *  


He could not stay in this place any longer. This was the thought running first and foremost through Harry's mind as he paced his room.

Dismissing the thought of making a small pack of sorts, Harry eased open the large window of his room and quietly crept out onto the sill. He scaled the ledge before levering himself down onto the window below and jumping to land softly on the grass. Harry's heart pounded in his chest as he cast a quick glance at his surroundings before sprinting across the lawn.

Harry ran until the gardens enveloped him. Somehow the tall plants seemed giant and monstrous in the black of night, casting ominous shadows over him as he pushed through to the forest beyond. Harry dismissed the cuts and bruises he would surely have from doing so and continued on until he came to a sudden halt.

In a small patch of violets, a writhing mass of scaly skin rose up to miraculously transform in front of Harry’s eyes. In the next moment, Harry found himself staring at the form of Riddle’s butler, Nagini.

Harry stumbled back, mouth agape and eyes wide.

“I cannot allow you to leave, young thief,” came the thick accent. His yellow eyes pointedly slipped past Harry who followed it to the manor looming in the distance. It rested large and darkly ornate against the starlit sky. A brief explosion of colour lit up one of the windows to which Nagini simply hummed, not seeming as troubled by this as Harry felt.

“You truly have angered him, Mr Potter. That is too bad…” said Nagini and with a casual air stepped past Harry who watched his retreating back. He knew better than to not follow. If Nagini was out here to stop him, Harry knew without question that he would do so by any means necessary. And so Harry swallowed down his fear and confusion to reluctantly retrace his steps back to the manor.

Now that Harry thought on it, the chances of him even finding a way out of the garden or climbing the wall were slim to none. Even if he had somehow managed to accomplish these things, he had neither money nor anywhere to stay. Not to mention, he could just as easily climb back into the Dursley’s house for all he knew.

Harry shuddered at the thought.

No, for now he would just have to wait out this storm and hope to survive to see the end of the week.  


* * *  


Once they reached the manor, Nagini dutifully escorted Harry to his rooms before leaving him there. Harry could hear the lock in the door and thought, _Some things never change_.  

Yet Harry could not find it in his heart to object as he once would have in the Dursley's household. If anything it now gave Harry a sense of security. For the thought of Riddle still out there lurking in the shadowy manor with the blood red image of revenge in his mind caused Harry to shiver with dread.

Harry let the lamp burn as he pulled the bed sheets around him tight that night. The only other piece of security Harry held was that he still had his wand. Somehow Riddle had not noticed he still had it and now it lay gripped tightly in Harry's hand under the pillow, just in case.

Harry watched the door to his room until his eyes were too heavy to keep open. He then sunk into a fitful sleep and felt like the first night he arrived here.  


* * *   


The next Harry awoke, it was to the familiar sound of a key in the lock. Immediately Harry tensed and shot up in bed, wand held tightly underneath his pillow and ready to be whipped out if needed.

It quickly turned out he need not have worried, as the lanky form of Nagini appeared through the door.

“Breakfast is served,” he announced.

Harry blinked. "I beg your... pardon?" 

_Breakfast? Did he still expect…?_

"Will you not be having any then, thief?" 

Harry's eyes widened and hastened to reply. "No! No, no... Of course not. I'll - " 

"Very well," Nagini said before turning to leave. 

"Wait!" Harry called out. "Is he...? Is he terribly angry with me, Nagini?"

The other man seemed to think on this for a moment and as each second passed, Harry grew more anxious. 

Finally Nagini replied with, "It is in my experience that the young master is never quick to forgive  those that wrong him." 

Harry's heart dropped. Did this mean he would be sent back to the Dursleys? If so, he would be lucky if that were the only punishment he received.

When Harry looked back to Nagini, he found the man regarding him with his head slightly cocked in a distinctly inhuman manner.

"I did not say he was not capable of forgiving," Nagini said before leaving Harry with that cryptic message.  

Harry rapidly got himself out of bed and dressed to make it downstairs on time. After all, he need not anger the lord of the house any more than necessary. But when Harry eventually made it downstairs, it was to find that he was completely alone. It seemed Riddle had not shown up for breakfast and Harry asked after him.

“The master has chosen to take breakfast in his rooms this morning,” Was all Nagini had to say about it as he poured Harry a pot of tea.

Harry had to keep from verbally exercising his vexation as he wondered why Nagini had not told him that in the first place.

The meal was silent and Harry felt all at once relieved and strangely anxious. For once he did not have Lord Riddle’s constant gaze upon him which he was thankful for. But at the same time he felt like something was missing.

Lord Riddle did not show up for dinner that night either. Nor did he make an appearance the next morning, or for the next. And just when Harry began to think there may be something seriously wrong or that his life may be in great danger, the young lord finally made his appearance.

He glided in at dinner with an heir of elegance that always graced him everywhere he went. He seemed calm and content enough to Harry's eyes, but knew that looks could be misleading. Yet as the night wore on, Harry noticed how Riddle's eyes never once turned to him. And only until it was well into the evening did he finally speak.

“You have questions.”

Harry looked up, not a little bit startled and confused.

Lord Riddle gave him a look and added in bored drawl, “Oh _come now_ , you must have. I’ll bet you’re positively _burning_ with the need.” His sharp eyes drilled through Harry who, to his mortification, felt a small rush of heat shudder through him at the way he said those words. To distract himself Harry tried to focus on his plate and at the grip on his fork as he tried to skewer a pea.

“I… yes. I do,” said Harry, and felt Riddle’s stare burn his forehead when he almost forgot to add: “My Lord.”

Hearing a shift of fabric, Harry looked up to see Riddle recline in his chair. His fingers made a steeple in front of his mouth as he regarded Harry for a moment.

“You have pure blood in you.”

“My Lord?”

“Your name. Your face. They hold characteristics of having come from a powerful magical family. One not tainted by low class, muggle filth.”

Harry flinched slightly at the clear undertone of insult but wondered at the term.

“‘Muggle’, my lord?”

“Non-magical person,” Came the prompt reply.

Harry looked back down at his plate as a thoughtful frown marred his brow. “I’m afraid I know nothing of my heritage, your lordship. My parents were killed when I was very young,” he said.

A moment of silence passed before Riddle uttered a thoughtful hum. “The society that you and I belong to is relatively small but nonetheless thousands of years old. Blood lines like ours run deep and far back, Mr Potter. To when wizards and witches first even came into existence,” he said.

Harry took in this information, digesting it. Did that make him a wizard? The thought was mind-boggling but thrilling.  _I can do magic..._ Harry marveled and felt that thrum under his skin with a new vitality. Harry was brought back from his thoughts when Riddle continued.

“And the Potters... well, that is a well known and archaic name in the magical family history. As are the Gaunts, Malfoys, Blacks, Crouches, Longbottoms… I could go on," said Riddle with a dismissive little wave of his right hand. “But it seems the Potter line ends with you, I’m afraid. Or rather, your father. Since he seemed to have married a muggle woman. Pity.”

Harry twitched in annoyance at the slight against his mother. “If you knew then why did you ask me?” he said, not bothering to hide his anger with the other man.

“I wanted to see if you did,” Was Riddle's reply. He then watched Harry with the barest smirk on his lips that quickly turned into a sneer. His cool eyes turned away to stare into the distance then, as if seeing something there. “Well, I suppose one cannot always help their blood lines. Of this, I am at least familiar.”

Harry twitched in curiosity to know what the young lord meant by this. Did he too come from non-magical parents? Harry burned to know the true background of the great Lord Riddle but knew that now was not the time to ask. Harry felt like he was in a very tentative position as it was. Riddle could just as easily give him back to the Dursleys at any time.

Or simply throw him out onto the streets. Harry could not tell which fate was worse.

He supposed there was also the possibility of death to consider. An increasingly likely outcome the longer he stayed in the manor, but certainly the least favourable.   


	7. Punishment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, sorry this has been a bit late. I mentioned to Helese in the comments that I've been entertaining my mother while she's in town. (And I'm getting fed too! Yay!)
> 
> Hopefully it won't take as long to get the next chapter out, but here's to hoping! :) Your comments, bookmarks, and kudos are a constant encouragement and really keep the fire burning. ♥ So thanks (again).  
> (Oh, and cookies to anyone who spots the TV Hannibal reference, haha. I don't think I was too subtle about it but I really liked the line!)

Conversation in the manor frequently revolved around the subject of magic after that. Lord Riddle proved himself to be an infinite source of information to Harry, though it became clear there still remained knowledge beyond even his grasp. One question in particular frustrated him to no end, and that was the matter of why he burned whenever he should touch Harry. It is why he had taken to wearing gloves at all times while in the younger man’s presence. Though it was not as if he ever had need; Riddle never once came so much as within touching distance of Harry. His eyes would only stare at his hands occasionally before flickering up to to the other man whenever he thought he was not looking.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry witnessed a minute expression of consternation mar the man’s beautiful features. It made Harry wonder if he had seriously injured Lord Riddle. Unbidden, a wave of guilt washed over him.

“Does it... " Harry chewed over his words carefully, uncertain if it were his place to even ask. "Does it hurt, my lord?” he ventured tentatively. 

Riddle leveled a hard look in the younger man's direction. It was calculative, as if he were trying to read something in Harry’s expression. Although what it could be was only privy to himself.

Lord Riddle seemed to come to a decision then, as a small sneer curled his rosy lips.

“Do not concern yourself, Mr Potter,” he said coldly.

Harry at once prickled at the tone. He tried and failed to affect Riddle's level of frigidity when he responded. “I apologize for any offense I may have caused, your lordship. I was only concerned.”

A derisive snort met Harry's well-meaning words. It was clear he doubted the sincerity of them. Anger boiled up within Harry.  

“I do not need your sympathy,” Riddle continued in his disgusted tone. “And I’ll ask that you kindly keep your **_concern_** to yourself.”

Harry bit back a reply and his frustration while puzzled over Riddle’s unreasonable reaction. Perhaps the lord of the house was irritated at not knowing what happened. Or that he had even been injured in the first place is what bothered him. Harry mulled over the possibilities for the rest of the meal and wondered whether he was getting better at reading Riddle. All of the options seemed possible, but he could never truly know with the mysterious man. A fact he resigned himself to some time ago.  
  


* * *  
  


A few days later found Harry outside, enjoying a cup of tea in the gardens, when Nagini came up behind him.

“The master wishes to see you in the drawing room,” The Indian man said and Harry startled, almost spilling the hot liquid all over his lap. He looked behind him and saw the rapidly retreating back of Nagini.

Harry hurriedly set down his cup on the lawn table before following, wondering what Lord Riddle could possibly want. Was he still angry about what he had said?

But then he remembered Riddle mentioning he was due to make a house call at one of the pureblood magical families today.

 

When Harry reached the drawing room he saw Riddle; stood in front of the mirror above the fireplace, fixing at a non-existent kink in his collar.

“Goodday, Mr Potter,” The older man said without turning around. But Harry saw how the man’s eyes watched him through the reflection.

“Good day, my Lord,” Harry replied, standing awkwardly just inside the room.

Eventually Lord Riddle turned around and Harry remarked on how immaculate and fine a figure he cut in his luncheon attire. He wore slightly lighter shades than his usual dark ones.

“It has come to my attention, Mr Potter, that we have not yet discussed the matter of your punishment.”

Harry’s mind shuttered at those words and he swallowed.

“Punishment, my Lord?” He asked, trying not to give way to his anxiety. He thought he had gotten away with everything that happened on that fateful night a few weeks ago. Knowing Riddle and what he was capable of doing now, Harry felt a cold dread run through him at the thought of receiving any sort of punishment from the man.

A cruel and almost sadistic smile curled at Riddle’s lips. “Oh, do not fret,” He said, voice slightly patronizing in tone. “I promise I won’t eat you.”

The way his eyes bore into Harry’s, however, made the younger man unsure of whether he was being entirely truthful about the fact.

 _Maybe not yet…_ Harry thought to himself, but squared up his shoulders and faced the other man. “I will accept whatever punishment you see fit,” He answered with a bravery he did not feel.

A delicate brow rose in response to that, pleased at such willingness.

“Good,” Riddle remarked. “Then Nagini will help you dress. As well as introduce you to the proper way of wearing a cravat,” He added, eyeing Harry’s neck dubiously. “And one more thing.” He pulled out the wand from his coat and Harry immediately tensed. Riddle slowly brought it up to tap lightly just between Harry’s eyes. “Reparo,” He murmured, and then pocketed the wand.

Harry stood confused for a moment before realizing his glasses felt different. He pulled them off to see that a crack had disappeared and the skewed wiring fixed. He put them back on and blinked at the face of Lord Riddle who smirked in amusement at him.

“T-thank you, my Lord,” Harry said.  

“No need to thank me. It is a simple spell.”

Lord Riddle then turned to the doorway where Nagini had suddenly appeared. Harry found it incredibly eerie how the foreign man seemed to be able to sneak up on them like that. But if he was also the snake in the garden, Harry supposed it made sense that he was practised in moving stealthily.

“Ah, my faithful servant. _Will you please get Mr Potter here ready for our lunch date_?”

“ _Of coursssse, my Lord._ ” Nagini replied, and Harry was able to tell from the hiss that they had slipped into Parseltongue. His practising was paying off; he was now able to recognize when the old language of the snakes was being used.

Harry left with Nagini to get prepared in his rooms, only coming down a half hour later. Riddle was now at the bottom of the stairs and waiting in the hall before the doors. When Harry arrived on the stairs, he looked up to him and a slow smile curved his mouth.

Harry found the gesture rather entrancing. It was the first real smile he had seen the man give.

“Very good, Mr Potter. I think you may have some potential yet,” Lord Riddle said, then offered up his gloved hand. Harry paused on the last few steps and stared at the appendage. He glanced up at Riddle; in part confused, and asking permission.

Riddle simply nodded his head and that was all Harry needed. He slowly took the offered hand.

There was no burning, no smoke, and Riddle looked completely unharmed as he lead Harry down the last few steps. It made Harry feel rather feminine and wondered why the man was doing it.

“I am going to tell you what you need to know about this punishment, Mr Potter,” Riddle said as he lead them towards the doors. With a lazy wave of his wand, Riddle opened them with a _whoosh_ before continuing _._  “It is something that requires your complete efforts, do you understand?”

Harry nodded, growing suddenly nervous as they made their way over to a waiting carriage.

“Good,” Lord Riddle said, and gestured for Harry to get into the carriage first.

Nagini stood holding open the door until Tom had also climbed in before closing it.

The carriage gave a small jolt and Riddle began to explain. Harry half listened as the the clop of horses hooves trotted along the path. He watched as the manor grew small in the distance, feeling a small thrill of freedom at finally being out of the place. It was a beautiful home, of course. But one might begin to feel claustrophobic.

“You’re going to be meeting a few - colleagues of mine.” Riddle said, and Harry was not fooled for one moment that they were even that. “Their alliance means a great deal so I would appreciate if you were to be on your best behaviour. Now, knowing your… _temperament_ , I imagine things could be quite difficult for you.” Tom gave a wry smile and Harry did not appreciate the lack of faith that he could act civil in polite company.

“I will try my best not to humiliate you then. Shall I, my Lord?” Came Harry’s tart reply.

Riddle narrowed his eyes at the younger man who felt an inward satisfaction. Harry did nothing to hide the smugness either when he met the blue-eyed gaze head on. The older man’s mouth twitched slightly before turning away.

“If you can manage, that would be splendid,” Lord Riddle said dryly.

And it suddenly felt more like a game than a punishment at that moment. A dare that made something in Harry roar at the challenge.

* * *

They arrived at a very grand estate. The letter ‘M’ on the black, wrought-iron gate was the only indicator to whom the manor belonged.

“You’re going to meet the Malfoys,” Lord Riddle spoke up just as they pulled into the gravel drive. “Lucius, his wife Narcissa, and their pompous little son Draco. Now, do try and remember the names. This kind of knowledge is crucial if you want to get by in polite society.”

Harry had to try not roll his eyes. “Yes, my Lord,” He replied.

Just as Harry was about to clamber out of the carriage, however, Lord Riddle’s cane came down on the handle. It narrowly missed Harry’s hand by a hair’s breath, the silver snake-head handle gleaming menacingly up at him.

“I’m sure you will not disappoint,” Riddle said, and Harry was all too suddenly aware of his proximity. Lord Riddle had leaned over into Harry’s space, eyes positively piercing Harry’s with their sharp, cold colour. Harry could almost feel the warmth of his breath against his cheek, an acute contrast. It was as close as Riddle had ever been to Harry. But despite his hammering heart, Harry did not have to try hard to see the threat that lay underneath Riddle’s words.

Harry gave a small jerk of his head in response, too breathless and dazed to manage anything else.

Riddle’s mouth cut a razor-sharp smile.

“Excellent,” He said, and swiftly exited the carriage.

Struggling to get his wits together, Harry followed soon after. Though perhaps not as gracefully.  

 

When they got out of the carriage, the Malfoys were waiting just outside the magnificent oak doors. Accompanying them were a handful of members of staff.  

Lucius, Harry observed, was a graceful man; with pale skin, and even paler hair and eyes. He is the one who steps forward first. Harry cannot help but notice how he does not glance in his direction once.

“Mr Riddle, it is truly an honor to have your presence. Narcissa and I have been awaiting you.” He does not even need to look back for his wife to step forward obediently.

“A pleasure to have you, Mr Riddle.” Narcissa says with her chin pointed upwards, giving her a very regal air. “My son has been most eager to meet one of such esteemed magical prowess.” She glances at her son who then steps forward as well. He nods to Lord Riddle.

“My Lord,” The fair-haired young man says.

Overall, Harry gets the distinct impression that the family are not too pleased with Riddle’s company. _Well,_ Harry thinks, _I feel the exact same way._ He could feel Draco sizing him up, no doubt wondering what was so special about him for the great Lord Riddle to have taken him under his wing.

“I’m glad to have come,” Lord Riddle said graciously. “May I introduce my ward, Harry Potter.”

Lucius’ eyes flicker downwards at Harry, nothing but a flash of distaste showing on his aristocratic features. He covers it up with a polite smile though. The motion makes Harry think of clay cracking.

“Ah. Yes. You have mentioned him. It is a pleasure.” He says, sounding as if it is anything but that. Nevertheless, he shakes Harry’s hand. “I believe my son Draco should be around the same age as you.” And Harry does not appreciate how it makes him sound like a child.

By the way Draco is glaring at Harry, he must feel quite the same.

“Draco.” Lucius’ voice cut the air like a whip, forcing his son into motion. Thrusting his hand out, Draco and Harry shook hands once, briefly, before limbs dropped to sides like dead weights. The contempt with which Draco does this, however, was palpable. He then sneered at Harry, turning his nose up at him.

Subconsciously Harry moved ever so slightly towards Riddle, leaning into his space like a dog in a manger.

“Come. Let us go inside.” Lucius said, and they all went in. The manor was extravagant, as expected. But by rather unnecessary standards, in Harry’s opinion. While Riddle manor was tasteful and elegant, this house bordered on ostentatious and garish. It gave Harry the impression that the Malfoys simply wanted it to scream ‘I have money’.

When luncheon is underway, Harry spends most of the time being ignored by the family. With the exception of Draco, of course. Who only spends his time glaring daggers at him whenever Riddle would turn to mention Harry. The Malfoys would never linger on his person as a topic of conversation for too long though. It made Harry feel like a dirty secret that everyone is aware of, but no one was willing to address. As if his mere presence were a taboo.

Harry did not appreciate the way the servants were treated either. One such unfortunate soul - a small, middle-aged man with large watery eyes and a neurotic disposition - frequently bared the brunt of the Malfoy's demands and criticism.   

By the time the whole ordeal is over, Harry is more than a little nettled and ready to go back to the manor.

 _Pretentious, self-centered, snobbish purebloods!_ Harry thinks sourly as he gets into the carriage after saying his very forced farewells to the Malfoys.

Lord Riddle, however, is hiding a smile by the time they arrive back at the manor.

“Did you enjoy yourself, Mr Potter?” He asks.

Harry whips his head around, indignation rising up to choke him at such an absurd statement. He stops when he sees Riddle’s teasing expression. Instead he throws a black look at the other man, annoyed that he is taking such enjoyment out of his misery.

“I think not,” Harry says shortly, stomping out of the carriage and into the manor. It is almost as if he forgets who he is speaking to. His manners and previous apprehension all but disappearing in Riddle’s presence.

Lord Riddle’s smirk only widens as he follows the younger man into the manor. His cold eyes watch Harry’s retreating back and bubble with a previously rare-felt emotion. It makes the magic spark and percolate just beneath his skin, feeling lighter than it ever had.

Harry is muttering to himself as he marches up the staircase and Riddle only manages to catch a few words. Something along the lines of, “‘Stupid’, ‘pompous’ and ‘purebloods’.” But he can not be certain.

* * *

“Since you so thoroughly enjoyed our last outing, I hoped you would accompany me to a ball,” Lord Riddle said that night. He dabbed delicately at his mouth with a napkin before continuing. “It is to be held in London.”

The mention of going to London immediately peaked Harry’s interest. But then he thought of having to meet more people like the Malfoys made him pause.

“How does one politely decline in circumstances such as these?” Harry asks.

“One does not,” Riddle replies, his eyes flashing up to meet Harry’s before looking down at his plate.

Harry spends the rest of the meal in sour silence, much to Riddle’s inward amusement.


	8. Blossom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ sings '♪ It's been a long, long time coming ♫' ] Sorry about that. I think I've hit one of those writer's slumps. And been in hibernation or something. Anyways, trying to maneuver Harry and Tom's relationship to the 'slightly more friendlier' stages is proving quite difficult. Maybe some of you can tell me if it's working or not by the end of this short update? :)

“Good.” Came Riddle’s smooth voice, and Harry swelled with pride at the rare compliment. Lord Riddle had been teaching him how to dance for the past few days. Usually their sessions began at noon in the evening room, just before tea. Lord Riddle would charm the piano in the corner to play a dainty tune and then take Harry through a few easy steps at first.

When Harry managed to get these down, they would switch roles so that he would be proficient in both. After completing this they then began to move more assuredly about the room. Harry secretly basked in the soft light that filtered through the large windows at these times. It tinged everything in a vermilion glow he found calming, somewhat reassuring, and little... romantic.

When first they started their lessons, Harry had been abominable. Somehow he always managed to trip over his own feet - or Riddle’s. Blessedly this did not seem to bother the older gentleman. Lord Riddle would simply correct Harry before resuming an arm under his shoulders and taking him through the steps once again.

When they stopped, Riddle commented: “There is, however, always a customary distance of at least a few inches between dance partners.” Harry felt himself go bright red with embarrassment.

“Yes, of course.” Harry muttered softly, and hastily moved away. He then tried to look anywhere but directly at Lord Riddle who gave him a strange look.

“No matter,” Riddle said in a slightly distracted tone. “You should be well prepared for the upcoming ball.”

His expression was without emotion, but Harry had the distinct feeling as though Riddle were trying to hide something. There was a small flicker of consideration in the depths of his cerulean eyes. As if he were still trying to figure something out about Harry. Or Harry had done something highly peculiar.

Harry nodded, not knowing what else to say or do.

 _How on earth could he get this man to trust him?_ His little escapade into Riddle’s study must have done some irreparable damage if he was still so cautious and wary of him.

 _But surely_ , Harry thought to himself, _the honesty of his feelings and intentions were plain to see?_

* * *

It was after a particularly long spell of dreary and wet weather that found Harry out in the garden again. He lay stretched out on a patch of soft grass amid tall, fragrant flowers, soaking up the sun just as they did; as if it gave him life.

Another sensation began to prickle at Harry’s senses though. It was familiar yet he could not pinpoint the source right away. His skin seemed to absorb the new feeling. It washed through him and set his limbs alight with a burning itch. Goosebumps rose on Harry’s flesh and all at once everything became too sensitive.

Harry took in a soft gasp when the familiar power drew near. His eyes flew open to find that he now lay in the shadow of Lord Riddle. His icy gaze looked down upon him like a king from his throne.

“Enjoying ourselves, are we?” Came the cool, dark tone.

Harry bit down on his lower lip in hopes that the brief pain would bring him some sense of mind.

It worked, if only for a brief moment.

“The sunshine was too good an opportunity to pass on,” Harry replied. Then added, “It’s been raining for weeks.”

A brow rose at the unnecessary statement. “Indeed,” Riddle said and his eyes seemed to wander Harry’s form for a moment before he continued, “Will you walk with me?”

The response was immediate. Harry quickly got up and dusted grass from his trousers in mere seconds. Grateful to be released from immobility under Riddle’s shadowy gaze.

Harry must have missed a few spots when dusting himself off, however. Otherwise, why else would Lord Riddle continue to stare at him so?

A gloved hand reached out to him as if in slow motion. Gently, it brushed a blade of grass from Harry’s head. Harry’s breath caught and Riddle’s hand lingered. The fingers then went to sweep aside the strands of hair on his forehead.

Harry could feel the feather-light touch of silk as it briefly skimmed across his skin and for some reason he could not fathom, Harry wished that it were not there at all.

That there was only the warmth of skin against his. A touch that would burn for entirely different reasons.

Harry caught himself quickly ―

_Merciful God, what was happening to him all of a sudden?_

“That is a curse mark.” Riddle said quietly, almost to himself. The hand dropped far too quickly.

Harry’s own hand shot up to self-consciously rub at the scar on his forehead.

“I’ve had it ever since I was a babe.” Harry replied. His thoughts felt far too sluggish still. Perhaps he had been out in the sun too long. “My aunt and uncle told me a band of ruffians and thieves carved it into me after killing my parents.”

Something in Riddle’s expression twitched at the mention of his relatives.

“You should not believe a word those people tell you.” Riddle bitterly replied, and turned to walk away. With a short command of “come” thrown over his shoulder, Harry quickly fell in step beside him.

They strolled down a path and Harry tried to match Riddle’s stride. There was nothing but the sound of birdsong and the rustling of leaves to accompany them. A sweet-scented breeze brushed against Harry and he marvelled at how strangely at peace he felt in that moment. To simply walk beside the elder gentleman despite their mostly at-odds personalities.

It is Riddle who finally broke the companionable silence.

“You must learn to wield your magic, Mr Potter,” He said. “To control and to guide it just as I have.”

“Will you teach me?” Harry asked and felt a tentative hope rise in his chest.

Riddle glanced over at him. “But of course,” He replied. “Who else would do if not me?”

Harry could not stop the grin from forming on his face and the other gentleman watched the transformation with no small amount of wonder.

 _How someone could find such pleasure in even the simplest of things_ , he mused. _A rightly placed word or gesture and people ate out of your hand_.

Yet for some unknown reason, Riddle did not feel repulsed when he looked upon the young man who walked beside him. In fact it was not displeasing at all to witness such joy take form from simply wanting to learn magic.

They walked in silence for a little longer and Harry wondered if that was all Lord Riddle wished to talk about. Or perhaps he simply desired his company?

Unbidden, Harry felt a peculiar warmth in his heart at the possibility.

But then a thought occurred to him ― _He must be lonely_.

In an instant Harry felt troubled for feeling so flustered. For betraying Lord Riddle’s trust with his unwanted fantasies.

Throwing a surreptitious glance beside him, Harry watched Riddle from beneath his lashes.

The sunlight reflected off unblemished, porcelain skin and made it seem as if Lord Riddle glowed. His features were softened and he looked to be as some angelic being. His air of grace when he walked and the way he held himself only lent to this idea.

The path finally came to an end just before a large fountain. It laid in the centre of a small clearing enclosed by a neatly trimmed hedge. Lord Riddle went to take a seat on a bench near the hedge while Harry sat at the opposite end. A rose bush grew nearby and Harry touched the snow white petals almost reverently.

“Why are you doing all this?” Harry found himself asking. The suddenness of such a question surprised even himself when it came out.

Lord Riddle simply looked over to him calmly. Harry did not meet his gaze but continued to fondle a silky petal between his fingers.

“Whatever do you mean,” Riddle said.

“Why are you taking me to the ball?” Harry clarified.

The other man fell silent for a long time, but Harry waited.

He could hear when Riddle took in a soft breath beside him.

“I require your assistance,” Was the answer.

Harry looked up at Lord Riddle then, genuine confusion written plainly on his face.

“Whatever for?” Harry asked.

“To further our noble and honourable cause, of course,” Riddle replied with a small, sly smile. He looked to Harry again whom found a new depth in his eyes when he continued. “And to charm those who cannot be swayed by money and power, my dear Harry.” Riddle’s eyes were as calculated as his smile. They watched Harry’s expression closely for his reaction.

Harry could feel his face flame brightly and turned away. It was the first time he had heard the other man call him by his first name.

Clearing his throat, Harry hastily busied himself with plucking off a small white rose from the bush.

“And why should they need swaying, my Lord?” He eventually ventured to ask. And much to his mixed relief and embarrassment, his voice came out only slightly higher in pitch than before.

Riddle tutted. “I thought that much should be obvious,” He replied. “I want our culture and way of life to _thrive_ , Harry.” There was silence as he regarded the younger male for a long time. “Don’t you?”

Harry could only stare at the way Lord Riddle’s eyes seemed to have lit up when he talked. There was an animation to them when he spoke that Harry had not witnessed before. It was strangely captivating.

This must clearly be a subject of which Riddle deeply cared about. Additionally, it was not as if Harry could not understand why he should want such a thing either.

Slowly Harry nodded his head and answered, “Of course, my Lord.” He then went for a tentative smile that Riddle’s eyes found themselves caught upon.

Subconsciously they watched as it spread across the younger man’s lips before flickering up to meet Harry’s own. Something shifted and it felt as though a string of tension had begun to tighten between them. It made something in the pit of Harry’s stomach clench, and not in an entirely unpleasant way.

“Good,” Riddle said. “Excellent.” He then backed away from Harry, breaking the odd moment. Harry had not even noticed that they now sat almost inches apart on the bench.

Lord Riddle took up the flower from Harry’s fingers and watched himself twirl it between his own.

“Because I plan to achieve it, Harry,” He said. “And by any means necessary.” His eyes took in the snowy white petals of the rose before adding in a low hiss, “ _Even if it means to look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under it._ ”

* * *

Only a few days later Lord Riddle invited Harry to accompany him to a garden party.

At around midday they arrived at the estate of one Lady Umbridge. A large tent had been set up on the lawn and served tea, food, and other refreshments. Meanwhile ladies and gentlemen walked about in varying shades of expensively tailored white and cream-coloured clothing. Ladies’ skirts rippled in the slight summer breeze as they held onto their hats in fear that they should blow away. Most of the men seemed to be gathered on the field to start a game of some sort while others had situated themselves in chairs, ready to spectate.  

As soon as Harry and Riddle arrived on the scene, a woman dressed from head-to-toe in bright, pastel pinks came up to greet them.

“Oh, Lord Riddle!” The woman exclaimed in a sickeningly sweet voice. Harry found it rather unpleasant and would not have minded if they left now to escape from having to listen to it the whole afternoon.

“Lady Umbridge,” Riddle answered in his silky tone, a charming smile on his lips.

 _Courteous and polite as always_ , Harry thought as Riddle gave a small bow and took up her hand to kiss the gloved fingers. Lady Umbridge preened and shooed him away with the other hand.

“Oh, you truly are a _devil_ , Lord Riddle!” She mock scolded.

“May I introduce my ward, Harry Potter?”

“Ah, yes, of course. You _have_ mentioned having a young boy in your care...” She said primly, and turned to Harry. “You must be so relieved to have been saved by such horrible muggles! Really, there is no end to Lord Riddle’s charity and kindness.”

Irritated at having been called a ‘boy’ and subjected to the non-too-subtle scrutinizing gaze, Harry’s “How do you do” came out rather forced. The quick tutoring from Lord Riddle beforehand, however, prompted Harry to also bow. Which he did so ― stiffly.

“Mm, yes. I’m sure you’ve been keeping our Lord Riddle here good company?” the Lady Umbridge continued.

“Er - yes, my lady.” Harry obediently responded. Though he was not entirely sure it was the truth when he thought on it. The first few weeks of when he had arrived in the manor flashed across his mind and, on second thought ―

 _Definitely not easy company_ , Harry decided.

“Very good. I’m sure you are,” Lady Umbridge rambled in a rather condescending tone. She then looked as if a thought had stuck her. “I say - “ She began, and looked around. Following her gaze Harry saw the group of people over by the field. “Lord Diggory’s son, Mr Cedric Diggory. Yes, I believe he would find you most fascinating company. You two should most certainly meet!” She positively thrilled at the idea.

Harry glanced beside him to find Lord Riddle wearing a politely interested and humouring expression. Yet there was a small groove between his eyes, Harry noticed. And somehow he knew the elder man found Lady Umbridge to be just as troublesome as he did.

A quick glance had Lord Riddle’s gaze meeting Harry’s. When it did, it seemed to speak ― ‘Just go along with it’. And so Harry supposed he must.

“You should know, however, that they’ve been waiting for another player for their game. So I dare say he should be very pleased to hear upon your arrival.”

“My Lady - ?” Harry began but was cut off.

“I’m sure Mr Potter would be delighted,” Lord Riddle said, and shot a rather sinister smile at Harry.

Harry pursed his lips at that, but could say nothing. Instead he grudgingly assented.

“Oh, marvelous! Just spectacular,” Umbridge chirped and clasped her hands together. “I shall inform them now - Oh, Mr Diggory! Yoo hoo~”

The two men watched as the pink woman fluttered off to the group, continuing to jabber away merrily.

For all his reluctant attitude, it was not that Harry did not wish to converse with anyone or join in the game. In fact, Harry thrilled at the chance to be included in something. His cousin had never given him the chance to back 'home', after all, and always claimed Harry had somehow cheated.

No, what bothered Harry the most was something entirely different. It was how he felt like a puppet on a string. A doll that had to play some kind of part for those like Lady Umbridge and all the ‘pureblood’ families such as the Malfoys. It forced Harry to appear as someone he was not and made him feel unnatural, filling him with shame. He began to resent that fact. As well as the man responsible...

Without looking at Riddle, Harry muttered under his breath, “She was right about one thing.”

At his side he could feel Riddle turn toward him. “You are the devil.”

Harry startled at the small laugh that escaped Riddle’s lips. Too soon the sound was whisked away by the wind, however, for Harry to hold onto it.  


	9. Pitch (Part I)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a short chapter. Had to split it in two because it was either too long for one or too short for two. As is evident, I split it any way. xP
> 
> Also - I forgot to mention it in the last chapter notes, but it’s been recently brought to my attention that I haven't mentioned ages? So Harry is about 17 years old while Tom is 24. (Seeing as people didn't live very long then and got married hella early in life I think it's quite reasonable. Although technically it is considered underage now... so. :-s)

Lord Riddle had moved further into Harry’s space, lowering his voice to speak in confidence. “Listen carefully, Harry,” he said, and nodded in the direction of Lady Umbridge. She tittered away to a young looking man who seemed to have a pleasant enough disposition. “You’re about to meet a Diggory. They’re new money. Corrupted bloodline. If they did not hold so much growing power and wealth, they'd hardly be worth the time it took to crush an ant with one's boot. Suffice it to say they’re already a black spot in our society as it is.”

Harry's brow furrowed as he took note of the information and elected to ignore it. He firmly believed that a man's lineage or family did not make him who he was. If it did, then Harry would be no better than the Dursleys. His own relatives were far from perfect, after all, and he disliked the idea someone might associate or judge him by them.

A soft displeased sound beside Harry brought his attention back to Lord Riddle. Venom dripped from the other man's words when he said, “Merlin, what is he doing here?”

The beginnings of a sneer formed on Riddle’s features and Harry followed his line of sight to find what could possible be the object of such scrutiny.  

An elderly gentleman stood talking amiably with a couple at the refreshments table. He appeared friendly and unassuming to Harry, though what struck him as odd were the outlandish choice of attire. The old man’s clothing were just short of what Harry might call flamboyant. While the colours were pale enough to fit in with the creams and whites, they were certainly vibrant enough as well. The style and cut had a flair of something exotic, making Harry think they looked more like robes than anything else. Expensive silk robes, that is. On his face he wore a pair of half-moon spectacles along with a slightly-too-long-to-be socially-acceptable silvery white beard.

With no small amount of confusion, Harry asked, “My Lord?”

“Albus Dumbledore,” Riddle snarled by way of explanation. “An old fool who claims to think he knows me better than myself, and anyone else for that matter.” He scoffed with no small amount of bitterness. Harry had the suspicion Riddle was unused to people seeing through him. Dumbledore must not trust him for some reason. Or perhaps he knew what Harry did…

 _Which could certainly be a dangerous secret to keep_ , Harry thought soberly.   

Harry was brought out of his thoughts when the bright pink woman came back over to them. Beside her she escorted a rather handsome looking Cedric Diggory.

“Mr Riddle. Mr Potter,” Lady Umbridge said. “May I introduce Mr Cedric Diggory.”

“I believe we’ve met before,” Riddle said, nodding to Diggory who graced him with a smile in return. Harry found it pleasantly friendly and carefree.

“Yes, of course,” Diggory replied. “Yet it is always such a pleasure, though I’m afraid I haven’t yet had the fortune of meeting your companion.” He turned to Harry then and flashed him a rather marvelous grin.

“Very pleased to make your acquaintance,” Harry said stiffly, and could not help but smile back as they shook hands.

“The pleasure it all mine, I assure you. Though I hear you play cricket? Heaven knows we're in sore need of another player right now.”

“Er - I’m afraid I've never really played before…”

“But you know how it works?”

“I’ve seen my uncle and cousin play once or twice,” Harry offered.  

“Splendid!” Cedric cried, and clapped Harry on the shoulder. “Then I suppose you’ll want to jump right in with it then? Pardon me, Lord Riddle. Lady Umbridge. I think I shall have to steal away your Mr Potter here.”

Harry was promptly steered off down to the field while Lord Riddle and Lady Umbridge watched.

“Oh, how marvelous,” Lady Umbridge said with great satisfaction in her voice. She looked up to Lord Riddle with a self-pleased smile. “I dare say I see a great friendship in the making.”

A shadow passed over Riddle’s face then, and he looked thoughtful for a moment. He managed to flick a momentary glance to Umbridge before giving a rather non-committal reply.  

* * *

Cedric Diggory was truly a sight to behold. Harry found it to be like looking upon the negative image of Lord Riddle.

Although his beauty could almost rival that of the young Lord, Cedric did not hold the same dark and mysterious allure. His skin was sun-kissed and his hair the colour of soft caramel. His eyes held the starkest different from Riddle's. To his Lordship's icy blue, Cedric's eyes were a warm nut brown. With his cheerful and easygoing disposition, Cedric also seemed to be very capable athletic-wise. This was demonstrated as he brushed Harry up on some of the game’s pointers by going through some of the proper ball catching and throwing techniques.

Cedric also struck Harry as having a brave heart. Not only for the reason that he and his family seemed to be uncaring of being outwardly shunned by the pureblood circle. But because he had not batted an eye in the face of Lord Riddle, whose presence normally commanded a certain feeling of fear or intimidation. Although, if Cedric knew what Lord Riddle was truly capable of, perhaps it would change his mind. Ignorance was bliss after all.

Harry found it sad then, that this perfectly friendly man and his family were considered lesser than others simply for the purity of his blood. It all made Harry rather ill that it mattered so much to be accepted in the magical world.

And speaking of pureblood snobbery…

Draco Malfoy came swanning over to the field at that moment. Flanking him were two older boys of considerable size who looked as if they had to have been stuffed into their fine clothing to even get into them. They stood gazing at Harry menacingly.

“Hullo, Mr Malfoy,” Cedric called, if not too enthusiastically. Draco shot him a distasteful look but otherwise ignored him. Instead he zeroed in on Harry.

“Potter,” The fair-haired boy sneered by way of greeting.

“Malfoy,” Harry fired back just as acidically. Draco seemed taken aback by his defense, clearly not expecting one from him.

“So, your true colours finally show now that you’re no longer grovelling at Lord Riddle’s feet? How predictable,” Draco said.

“The only one grovelling would be you, Malfoy,” Harry shot back stonily.

Colour bloomed on Draco's pale face as he opened his mouth to spit back, “You filthy little mud - “

“ _Mr Malfoy_ ,” Came an unfamiliar voice, stopping whatever Draco had been about to call him dead in its tracks. Harry looked over to see none other than the old man Riddle had pointed out before, strolling over to them on the field.

Dumbledore’s face appeared calm and unthreatening, yet Draco had stiffened and silenced at once. His pale and pointy face did not bother to hide his distaste of the older man, however.

It was then that Harry wondered just who Dumbledore was. To have Draco Malfoy seizing up and Lord Riddle outwardly spiteful towards him... _Was he a powerful wizard?_ Harry wondered. _Did he hold some kind of high position in the magical community?_

“I hope we’re not getting carried away with a little pre-game competitiveness, are we?” Dumbledore said lightly.

“No, sir.” Draco replied sourly.

“Good. I’m very glad to hear it.” Dumbledore then turned to Harry. “Ah. I don’t believe we’ve met?”

“Erm, Harry. Harry Potter, sir.”

“Ahh, yes,” Dumbledore nodded, and stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Mr Riddle’s ward. How fascinating. Come, you simply must tell me how our friend is doing. I fear he doesn’t tell me much these days.”

Giving his word that he would return soon, Harry left a rather lost looking Cedric Diggory before he joined the old man as he took him aside.

* * *

Riddle had been conversing with the other party guests when Harry had gone off with Mr Diggory. Unknown to Harry, however, he kept a close watch of him from the corner of his eye.

Lord Riddle felt a flash of amusement at the frisson between him and the young Malfoy. This Cedric Diggory, though, gave him pause for thought.

But then Dumbledore had arrived and taken Harry aside...

Riddle darkened considerably as he watched the old man converse with his ward. He could only imagine what sorts of lies the old man would be whispering in his ear. What sort of twisted ideals that would be planted in his impressionable young mind.

It made Riddle positively sick to think of it.

* * *

“It is always disappointing when one calls another Mudblood,” Dumbledore said as soon as he took Harry aside. “As if our blood is any indicator of magical prowess. Such a shame…”

“Er - Mudblood, sir?” Harry asked.

If Dumbledore was surprised whether or not Harry knew what the term meant, he did not show it.

“A rather distasteful term to describe a witch or wizard that is born of non-magical folk,” He explained. “Or those with mixed blood.”

“Are most people here… pureblood, then?” Dumbledore gave an amused smile while his eyes danced with something like mischief.

“My dear Harry…” He said. Then paused ― “I may call you Harry?” The younger man nodded dumbly. Even if it were not, Harry did not think he would be able to say so in front of this strange man. Especially when he still did not know who he was exactly.

The old man gave a wink before he continued: “Well, if there were still such a thing as a pureblood that had not at least _one_ muggle somewhere along their lineage, I should think we would all be marrying our sisters.”

Harry shivered and Dumbledore patted his shoulder sympathetically.

“I should be off now. Your guardian does not seem very pleased with me at the moment,” Dumbledore said, and seemed more entertained than anything else. “But more importantly I hear there are some rather delectable eclairs being served.” He smiled then. An expression Harry thought might look more appropriate on a small child rather than a man of his age.

Dumbledore had begun to take his leave when he paused, turning to Harry once again.

“Oh, and please do give Mr Riddle my regards,” Dumbledore added. “Though I should think he would not believe it is sincere, I send my best wishes that he finds happiness.”

Once again, Harry could only nod in reply. “Yes, sir. Of course,” He replied, but the old man had already departed.

Harry stared after him wistfully, his mind beginning to immerse itself in his thoughts when he heard his name being called.  

“Harry!” Cedric waved over to him from further infield. “Come, the game needs you!”


	10. Pitch (Part II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I promise there'll be longer updates from now on! xP This is (hopefully) the last, frustratingly short chapter if I have anything to say about it.

Harry, it turned out, was quite good at cricket. He lunged and leapt with little reservation, unafraid of getting his fine clothing dirty like most of the others. He soared and caught balls left and right. And when it came time for switching positions (since most thought it a good idea to see who might be best in which), Harry was rather adept at throwing. Although perhaps not quite as good as he was at catching.

Harry possessed a certain type of grace when he threw. Where he lacked raw physical strength and power, he made up for in form and in aim.

From his seat on the edge of the field, a certain young Lord felt a strange sort of buzz akin to giddiness. A dark satisfaction curled in the pit of his stomach that such a rare gem belonged to him, and only him.

“Oh, what a fine young man!” Lady Umbridge nattered on beside him. “I dare say there should be plenty of young ladies in want of a husband such as him. Have you any in mind? I believe I may have several options...” She leaned in conspiratorially and a muscle in Riddle’s jaw twitched.

“I have not seen Mr Potter express any such interest with finding a wife,” He said. “So while your efforts are appreciated, they are unneeded.”

Lady Umbridge tutted but did not seem to catch the hint that Lord Riddle would say nothing more on the subject.

The woman shifted in her chair like an excited school girl and peered over to a pair of maids watching further down the edge of the field. One such particular red-headed maid wore a an unguarded look of awe and amour on her face.

“Oh, I dare say it will be a task to keep away the attention,” Lady Umbridge added unhelpfully. Riddle glanced over at the maid and almost felt sick to his stomach. _How plebian_ , He thought to himself. Lady Umbridge gave a single short giggle before mercifully dropping the subject.

The young Lord suddenly found himself having to consciously unclench the fists he had made on the lawn chair.

* * *

Cedric laughed; a warm, bright, and cheerful sound.

“Come now! There’s nothing wrong with a bit of good old competition, is there?” He said, directing that beam at an unwavering and sour Draco Malfoy.

They had just caught out both of Draco’s goons, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. Much to say Draco was not at all pleased about this fact.

“Speak for yourself, Diggory. I’m in this to win it.” The fair-haired man sneered before turning on his heel and heading back to batting position.

“A piece of work, isn’t he?” Cedric said conspiratorially when he came back over to Harry.

“He certainly is,” Harry replied, and grinned back at him.

“We’ll have to make sure to show him what a team can do then, won’t we?” Harry nodded his agreement and the two separated themselves by a few steps until they were once more in their respective positions on the field. Harry lowered himself - almost into a crouch - and  prepared to catch the ball should it come his way.

The clap of a bat sounded and a cheer came from the small crowd.

Malfoy had shot forward to start running while both Cedric and Harry sprung into action as the ball came hurtling into the space between them. Not wanting to take chances, Harry did not wait to see if Cedric would get it or not.

The resulting crash was inevitable.

Both bodies collided with a hollow _thump!_ and soon Harry found himself struggling for air underneath the warm and solid weight of Cedric Diggory. Too dazed to register the position he was in, it was only when Harry heard the groan of pain above him that he realized. Harry looked up to see the blurry image of Cedric Diggory’s face hovering close to his. Flushing brightly, Harry scrambled to get out from underneath him while Cedric looked sheepish as he got up and promptly held out a hand to help Harry up too.

“Er - sorry about that,” Cedric chuckled nervously. Harry shook his head then winced ―  _Not a good idea_.

“‘S not your fault. Should have looked where I was going,” Harry said and they both looked over to see Draco still doing runs.

“Oh - the ball - !” Cedric started.

“Got it!” Harry called, lifting up the hand that still clutched the ball. It must have been hidden when squashed between his body and Cedric’s if no one noticed he had it.

The whole field seemed to have froze.

The crowd gaped and Draco almost tripped over himself. Then ― “Merlin’s beard!” Cedric laughed in wonderment. “Truly remarkable, Mr Potter. I think I’m in envy!”

The rest of Cedric and Harry’s team cheered as they came over, giving him claps on the shoulder and shaking his hand with cheers of “Jolly good!” and “Bravo!”

Malfoy and his teammates, meanwhile, looked positively murderous.

It seemed to take an incredible amount of effort for the fair-haired man to hold his tongue. “No matter,” He said, his voice sounding tight and constrained. “We’ll be the ones to crush you when it’s your turn to bat.”

“Oh I’m sure you will, Mr Malfoy,” Harry replied. “If you were as good, I mean.” A startled bark of laughter escaped Cedric’s mouth and he threw a companionable arm around Harry's shoulders.

“Oh, I like you! I think we shall make great friends,” The older boy grinned and something warm wiggled it’s way into Harry’s heart at those words.

“I’d like that very much,” Harry said almost shyly.

* * *  

A few yards away a man sat under the shade and watched as a small crowd gathered around the spectacled, dark haired young man. A twisted and black feeling grew in Riddle’s stomach as his gaze narrowed on the Diggory heir interacting with his ward. The boy played with fire.

Touching, laughing, and smiling with things that were _not his_ was a very dangerous game indeed.

Lord Riddle tore his attention away to the other red-head on the field. A footman Riddle suspected to be related to the maid. He stood as the wicket keeper which was positioned relatively close to where Harry and Cedric were. He seemed to get along with Harry from the very brief exchanges they made. He thought it slightly easier to watch than Diggory’s attention.

However, Lord Riddle did not find any of this agreeable either way.

Suddenly he began to doubt whether the entire outing was the most wisest decision. Granted it was his idea, but it had not turned out exactly how he planned it.

Riddle wanted Harry to charm, yes. He had also hoped that somehow it would leave the boy still under his grasp. By the looks of it, however, the young man seemed to be just as likely slip away from him completely now that he had a taste of what ‘freedom’ from Lord Riddle was like.

Abruptly, he stood.

Startled at the sudden movement, Lady Umbridge looked up. “My Lord? Is something the matter?” She trilled.

Riddle twitched in irritation at the sound of the woman’s voice but managed to force a reply.

“Not at all, my lady,” He said smoothly. “I’m afraid it is only that I must retire soon. The day is getting late and my… ward is easily taxed after so much activity.”

“Oh, but he looks fine to me - “ Umbridge started but Riddle cut her off.

“He is not.”

A brow lifted in surprise at his tone but thankfully the woman closed her mouth.

“Apologies,” Lord Riddle amended. “It is only that Harry does not often show it, nor is he aware of it himself most times, but he tires easily after even such slight excursions.”

“I see,” The woman said haltingly, but it was obvious that she did not. “How dreadful for him. He certainly looks as if he is enjoying himself. But it would be an awful shame if he were to tax himself so early.”

“Indeed,” Came the short reply.

So it was with a prompt nod in her direction that Lord Riddle finally left Lady Umbridge and headed over to the field where he called to his ward.

“Harry.” The word was even and commanding. The voice need not have even raised for Harry to hear it. There was a certain kind of power behind it which immediately garnered the response of his ward.

Green eyes that previously glittered with mirth and lightheartedness snapped up. When they saw Lord Riddle, the amusement from before was extinguished to be replaced by something more focused, more intense.

With a muttered word of parting to a confused and slightly disappointed Mr Diggory, Harry hastened to Lord Riddle’s side. Together they said their farewells to Lady Umbridge before heading off across the field to where their dark-skinned servant waited with a carriage.

 _What a curious pair_ , thought one Ms McGonagall. She had been watching the young man and Lord from her own seat on the field. Beside her, she had no doubt that her colleague and good friend agreed if the way his eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles meant anything.

Together they watched as the forms of two strapping young gentlemen disappeared into the carriage across the field. _Curious_ , she thought. _And perhaps even dangerous?_


	11. Adonis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. I thought I had this chapter ready to go 3 days ago but realized I had a LOT more that I wanted to put in. Hence, the wait. Forgive me. //orz
> 
> Please Note: - I'm travelling next week so I'm not sure if I'll be able to update on the promised date. (Not like I had a very stable schedule in the first place lol.) Either way, I'll try to have a chapter ready to post whenever I get the chance. ( ^ u ^ )b

They were in the garden again and Lord Riddle stood beside Harry as they practised spells. Yet Harry found the exercise turned out not to be as pleasant as he had expected.

“You must focus your mind. Channel all your hatred. You must genuinely want to do harm for the success of this particular curse,” Lord Riddle said and pointed his wand at a spider crawling up a branch of a nearby shrub. “Now, repeat after me: _Crucio._ ”

Harry watched as the spider started to convulse and writhe, it’s legs contorting into painful and unnatural positions. A cold feeling of horror ran down his spine at the sight, yet all Harry found to be capable of was watch. His feet rooted to the spot as Riddle held the spider under his spell.

It was after some time when the young Lord finally, mercifully, lowered his wand. The spider dropped to the ground and at first Harry thought it to be dead. But then it twitched and slowly began to crawl, crooked and shakily, across the grass and into the dark space under the shrub. Harry felt a little ill to witness it.

“Now it is your turn.” Harry looked to Lord Riddle who pointed to a grasshopper just near their feet. Harry stared at the insect for a moment, gathering what strength and focus he had to apply it to the task at hand.

Harry lifted his wand.

“Crucio,” Harry recited. But nothing happened. Harry swallowed and tried again: “ _Crucio._ ” Still nothing. The grasshopper began to hop away and Harry felt a mixed sense of disappointment and relief. But then ―

“Avada kedavra.”

A jet of green light and the insect’s journey was brought to an abrupt halt.

Harry turned to face Lord Riddle to see that the other was watching him closely. He felt a stab of shame that he could not do what Riddle asked, thinking that perhaps he was not powerful enough.

“You do know the killing curse, correct?” Riddle said. “Perhaps you will have more luck with that.” He jerked his head to the side and Harry turned to try and find a new target to practice on. Perched on the leaf of a tall sunflower, Harry spotted a small red ladybug.

Aiming his wand once again, he uttered the words.

Never in his life had Harry felt such tension in that moment where his efforts failed. Yet he tried again. Again and again, he tried.

“ _Focus,_ Harry. It is a mere insect. You must concentrate.”

“ _I’m trying, my Lord -_ "

“ _Try harder!_ ”

Harry was surprised at how easily they had slipped into their secret tongue. But it was small compared to the hot shame that gripped him, burning his cheeks and turning his face away so as not to see the disappointment of his guardian and keeper.  

All the while Lord Riddle began to wonder.  _Could this young man really be the one to help him achieve greatness?_

* * *

The very next day was the ball. The whole day felt as if it were spent getting ready and Harry wondered vaguely how they were going to get to London in time when they had not even left the house. He knew it took at least an hour or two by carriage.

Harry was waiting in the drawing room and sat by the empty fireplace, listening to the great grandfather clock tick by the minutes. He felt anxious and restless, his leg moving up and down in a nervous rhythm. Then he heard the sound of the door open and in walked Lord Riddle.

Harry scrambled up from the chair to face him and it was only then that the younger man actually took in Riddle’s appearance.

Put simply, the other man was breathtaking. While Harry wore a deep maroon coat and breeches, Riddle was dressed smartly in black while his waistcoat and silk stocking remained a classic white. The outfit as a whole looked as if it were tailored to his long, lean, slightly muscular body and Harry felt incredibly inadequate all of a sudden. Even more so when he noticed the pair of ice blue eyes travel up and down his person, no doubt making their own assessment.

Lord Riddle took in a breath as if to say something but then stopped and seemed to change his mind. Harry blinked at the curious and rare show of speechlessness. Eventually he seemed to find his words again, however, for he said: “I hope you have prepared adequately for tonight. This is perhaps one of the most important events that we will attend. You must behave and garner interest just as I have taught you.” Harry only nodded in assent. “Good. Now, it is a magical gathering as well, so there will be no muggles attending. Come.”

Harry frowned in puzzlement, however, when instead of going to the door Lord Riddle headed towards the fireplace. He turned to raised an eyebrow at Harry who thought that perhaps this was some kind of joke. But then thought better of it ― this was Lord Riddle, after all. As far as Harry was aware the entire household lacked any kind of humour except the dark kind.

So it was with great skepticism that Harry went to stand by Riddle who held out his forearm. As was custom, Harry placed his own atop of it. Then with his free hand Lord Riddle then went to take a handful of some kind of powder from a jar on the mantlepiece and stepped into the fireplace with Harry. Bewildered and not a little bit nervous, Harry watched as Lord Riddle threw down the handful of powder at their feet. At once they were engulfed in emerald flames and Harry cried out in surprise and shock as the drawing room of Riddle manor disappeared before his very eyes.

* * *

Harry almost tripped head-over-heels from the fireplace while Lord Riddle coolly stepped out after him, brushing a bit of dust from his shoulder. Harry then looked around him to find that they now stood in a rather elegant and warmly lit hallway. He was only able to gape for a moment, however, before Lord Riddle took him by the elbow and promptly led him away.

They walked down the hall and towards the sound of music and voices that floated down to them, growing louder with each step. Eventually, Harry and Riddle stood just before a set of large open doors, giving them an obscured view of the ballroom with the people that milled in the doorway. Lord Riddle took that moment to lean down and whisper into Harry’s ear. “Remember,” he said softly. “An innocent flower.” Unbidden, a shiver ran down Harry’s spine at the warm breath of air that ghosted across the shell of his ear. He nodded.

Together they stepped into the room and passed several curious looks and excited whispers. Harry did not paying attention to any of it though, too distracted by the grandeur and liveliness of the sight before him.

Women in exquisite gowns of silk and muslin floated about on the arms of equally elegantly dressed gentlemen who held themselves much like Lord Riddle did ― with grace and poise.

By Harry’s side, Lord Riddle watched the young man out of the corner of his eye and fascinated at the childlike wonder and awe that was clear on his face. A feeling of small triumph seized him momentarily at the thought that he had been the one to put it there. His attention was diverted then, when he spotted something else in the corner of his vision. A brief flash of colourful fabric and… feathers.

Lord Riddle leaned once more into Harry who responded by immediately tilting his head towards the man as he spoke. “Look there, Harry,” Riddle said, giving a small nod directly in front of them. “Those are the Lovegoods. Pureblood. Old name, not so much money. A madness runs through their bloodline.”

Harry observed a man and young woman with matching pale hair that closely resembled that of the Malfoys. Their choice of attire was far more peculiar than any Harry had seen yet. They were as colourful as Dumbledore, but with added accessories that, from where Harry stood, closely resembled something much like... vegetables? A rather exotic looking feather also adorned the older gentleman’s breast pocket, matching the one stuck in the younger woman’s hair. Their eyes were large and unfocused, making them seem distant. It made Harry wonder if this was their first time attending a ball too. Or if perhaps that were just how they normally looked.

“And over there,” Riddle continued, tearing Harry’s attention away from the odd pair to a brooding, menacing looking group of people. Their hair was dark and features sharp. Harry detected a cruelty in them. “Those are the Blacks. Old money, old name. Powerful purebloods that married in with the Malfoys.” Just as Riddle had finished his sentence, they heard Harry’s name being called.

“Mr. Potter!”

Lord Riddle watched in barely concealed shock as a delighted smile spread across Harry’s face in response to the voice.

“Please, Mr. Diggory,” His ward said. “If you are a man true to your word, then I must insist that you call me Harry.”

A delighted smile from Diggory answered this. “Of course!” Mr Diggory cried. “Then I shall have to ask for you to do the same.” He then turned to the man beside Harry. “Lord Riddle,” He addressed him with a small bow of his head. The young Lord forced himself to reciprocate in kind. “I hope you won’t mind me stealing your ward for a few spins around the ballroom?”

Lord Riddle felt the blood boiling just below the surface of his cool facade.

“Not at all, Mr. Diggory,” Riddle bit out. “That is, if Harry is willing.”

He looked beside him at the other man who must have felt or seen his fury because his eyes widened, making him hesitate.

“Er - Well, I...“ Harry began.

“Harry, I must insist.” Mr Diggory said, and offered up a hand that Lord Riddle positively glared at. This did not go unnoticed by Harry who felt growing confusion.

 _I thought Tom wanted me to charm people? Why is he acting like this?_ Deciding not to dwell on it, Harry accepted the offer with the intent to ask him about it later.

Lord Riddle watched as his ward walked off arm-in-arm with the Diggory boy towards the ballroom. A growing knot of acidic emotion curled in his stomach before he stalked off after them at a safe distance.

On the dance floor, Harry and Cedric joined in a light and cheerful country dance. Harry was pleasantly surprised to find he actually enjoyed himself. So it was with a small sense of loss when the song ended and they bowed to one another, signalling the end of the dance.

However, when the next dance began - a cotillion, Harry was proud to distinguish - he saw that Cedric looked as if he were about to move towards Harry again. But before he had the chance to, Harry suddenly found himself being taken by the hand and spun into a pair of surprisingly strong, protective arms.

Harry looked in confusion to the handsome face of his captor and his stomach gave a lurch to see that it was Lord Riddle. The older man gripped Harry’s waist almost painfully while his free hand clutched Harry’s own. He did not respond to the inquisitive expression of his ward and instead glared over Harry’s shoulder. But when Harry turned to glance back, a sudden movement from Lord Riddle jerked his head to face his guardian’s once more.

“Look only at me.” Lord Riddle said darkly.

“My Lord? What’s going on?” Harry asked, truly beside-himself now.

“Only me. Do you understand?” Was the only reply before Riddle began to move them to the flow of the music.

Harry stared into pale eyes to find something almost pained in them. Taken aback, Harry acquiesced to the other man and relaxed into Riddle’s hold without a word. This seemed to satisfy the young Lord somewhat and they started to dance.

The music went on and Harry found himself quickly losing himself in the feel of warm arms, as if they were back in the manor practicing again. He also noted how they seemed to have drifted closer to one another again. But when Harry went to correct it, Riddle would pull him closer and it was then that Harry knew it was no mistake.

The thought sent his heart aflutter and it was all he could do to keep himself together and focus on the steps. Harry quickly learned that it was simply impossible to keep his distance and his mind when they were like this though.

* * *

Lord Riddle departed from Harry once the dance was over with a reluctance that he was surprised to feel. Harry now conversed with a moustached fellow on the grand staircase and seemed to be talking amiably enough with him that Riddle felt he need not intervene. However, he did not recognize the man, therefore knew there could be no power bought from him. _Harry should have been spending his time with more promising people of character_ , Lord Riddle thought, but decided it was no matter. Giving his ward the chance to practice - even with unknown persons - was all very well if it helped him become more useful in his plans.

Riddle averted his gaze from Harry then to scan the room once more, seeing if there were any possible targets that he had not yet charmed, when a figure on the balcony caught his attention.

The young Lord watched as the Malfoy heir stood with his two goons, snickering and grinning while their gazes fixed on something - or rather, someone -  in the crowd with a focus that Riddle found suspicious. Following their line of sight, the man was unsettled to find none other than his ward to be the recipient of such attention.

Lord Riddle was unable to determine whether or not the fair-haired boy were up to some mischief, but thought it wise to keep an eye on him as well as Harry. Meanwhile, he found himself being engaged in another conversation with a pureblood couple.

It was only a few moments before Lord Riddle caught movement from the corner of his eye. When he turned to look, Draco seemed to be muttering something under his breath while at his side there was a subtle movement. Riddle had no doubt in his mind that it was his wand.

Tearing his gaze back to Harry, Lord Riddle saw the moustached man had gripped Harry’s shoulders and seemed to be saying something to him with concern. Harry’s face was marred by a frown of confusion and slight panic. He then slowly took an incredible shaky step away from the man and looked as if he were about to sink to the ground, legs about to give out completely from underneath him.

Lord Riddle was marching across the room in an instant, thoroughly ignoring his previous company and their questions. He pushed through the crowd and garnered curious and surprised looks at his haste and lack of manners. When he finally got to the staircase, Harry had just begun to take a wobbly step down from the staircase when his legs completely gave out and he  began to fall.

With a lurch Harry felt himself tumble. His legs somehow felt unstable all of a sudden, unable to properly support him any more. He felt the air rush past him with a sickening feeling in his stomach.

Out of nowhere, Harry felt a familiar pair of strong arms encircling him. They held him aloft, safe and secure. Then soft, warm skin pressed against his cheek and Harry inhaled the expensive cologne he recognized from being in the manor. A sharp breath of relief and shock left Harry’s lips at being in the arms of Lord Riddle once more that night.

For some time Harry and Lord Riddle seemed to be frozen like that. As if time had suddenly stopped. At least, that was how it felt like to Harry. The growing whispers and voices of concern around him, however, told him differently. Slowly he lifted his face away from it’s comfortable position between Riddle’s neck and shoulder and his jaw brushed against the other’s. With a jolt Harry found his face to be mere inches away from Riddle’s own when he pulled back.

For a long moment they simply stood there, Riddle staring at him as they shared the same breath ― or rather, the only breath that seemed to come in and out of Harry at that moment, for he felt quite a lack of it then.

And it was only then that Harry realized ―

His skin had just made contact with Lord Riddle's. And without any pain.


	12. Kindling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys! Here I am again. I'd been so preoccupied with the World Cup and then distracted by family and other fics that I completely had no thinking space for this one! xP. (But I am so so so proud my team won ahhhhh!! Was anyone else cheering on Germany?? I hope you all were! :'DD)  
> In other news, I think I may have a fair estimate of how many more chapters are left to go in this story. I'll keep it a question for now though as it is likely to change.

Harry marvelled. It was the first time he had been able to touch the other man since that night long ago without causing horrendous pain.

A calculated and equally fascinated look appeared in Riddle’s pale eyes. They gazed into Harry’s green ones, no doubt wondering the same thing.

Finally Harry pulled further away from Riddle. Or rather, the young Lord gently set him back on his own feet before he began to take off one of his gloves. Harry’s breath caught at the sight of the other man sliding off the piece of cloth. Riddle carefully offered up the palm of his hand to Harry. Harry hesitated only for a moment before swallowing hard and placing his own hand in Lord Riddle's.

A long moment of tense silence stretched between the two, the only sound being the background chatter of the people around them. Otherwise, nothing else occurred.

Nothing happened but the small sensation of heat and warmth as Harry's skin touched Riddle's. Underlying that, Harry swore he could have felt a small spark of _something_ that he most definitely would not call unpleasant.

“Merlin, Harry! Are you alright?” The sound of Cedric’s voice cut through their moment of revelation and Harry snatched back his hand. Hastily he moved away from Riddle, if only to gain a few more inches between the man so as to breathe properly again.

But this movement turned out not to have been a good idea, as Harry's legs decided to completely give out under him this time.

When Harry stumbled, he found that a different pair of arms were awaiting to catch him this time. Looking up, he met Cedric's worried expression. A quick glance in Lord Riddle's direction, however, caught a flash of anger pass through stormy blue eyes. Harry felt his face heat furiously in a mixture of mortification and some other emotion he chose not to examine too closely. _Dear God_ , He thought. _What on earth is going on?_

As if in answer to his thoughts, Riddle pulled out his wand and aimed it at Harry’s legs. He muttered something underneath his breath and pocketed the instrument once more before holding out his hand to Harry.

Harry stared at the bare hand again and felt another involuntary blush steal across his features. He quickly tried to stifle it as he took the offered appendage. To his great relief Harry found that his legs appeared to be working again. If only perhaps a little bit more wobbly than before.

“Locomotor Wibbly,” Riddle explained. “The jelly-legs jinx. No need to worry, the after-effects will pass momentarily." He cast a foreboding look around their present company once, as if to warn them away with his eyes, before turning back to his ward. "Come, Harry. I think it perhaps time we should leave.”

“Well, I do hope the scoundrel who cast that jinx explains himself!” Cedric spoke up then, clearly offended and outraged on Harry’s behalf. But he softened again as he rested a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Are you quite sure you’re alright? You could have broken your neck on those stairs, for Merlin’s sake!”

“He will be fine,” Riddle interjected, the words coming out through clenched teeth. His grip on Harry tightened to move him out of Cedric’s grasp and Harry felt like a ragdoll. “I bid you goodnight, sir.” He then looked around once again to glare at the rest of the group. "Ladies. Gentlemen."  

Without further ado, Riddle stalked off towards the exit with Harry in tow. The gathered group stood there blankly, staring after them with curiosity and no small amount of foreboding.

* * *

The days that followed the ball were strange. Harry became distinctly aware of a growing silence between himself and Lord Riddle during meals. More frequently the man had also taken to abandoning him to his own devices which meant that Harry had to practice magic on his own. As a result, no more than a few times Harry had ended up with some embarrassing injury or another.

It was uncharacteristic of Lord Riddle. Even if the man kept to himself most of the time, he would always engage with Harry on occasions. Now the man could hardly look at him and Harry felt as though he were being silently accused of something. Yet, for the life of him, he did not know what for.

Harry's suspicions were soon confirmed, however, when he joined Lord Riddle to dine a few nights later.

Harry had just caught the tail end of a dark look from the young lord before the latter averted his gaze. It was the third time their eyes had met and held that night. But it was always only for a moment before Riddle broke away again.

It very soon began to drive Harry mad. Had he perhaps done something to offend Lord Riddle? Harry begun to open his mouth to ask before thinking better of it. Perhaps if he attempted to engage the young lord in small talk....?

"I met someone," Harry said suddenly, and the statement had the desire effect: Lord Riddle's eyes snapped up to fix on Harry. "That night at the ball, I mean," Harry continued, his eyes were shining bright and hopeful. "He said his name was Mr Remus Lupin and that he was a friend of my parents. He told me a bit about my father and mother..." A slow, bittersweet smile spread across Harry's lips before he trailed off, his expression turning sad, eyes downcast. Lord Riddle found himself wishing he could bring back that light again. The thought that someone had brought such sorrow into his ward's heart made his blood boil for some inexplicable reason.

"Forget him," Tom said curtly. "He is not worth your time. You should focus more on your studies."

"I should think I have a right to know about my parents. _My Lord_ ," Harry retorted, tone too sour for Riddle's liking. Instead of a retort, however, Lord Riddle shook off his irritation and asked the question which had plagued him the past week: "Is there something you are in want of?" He said.

Previous anger forgotten, Harry blinked owlishly, clearly taken aback by the question.

"No, my Lord," Harry replied. "I am quite content with what you have provided for me."

"Perhaps..." Riddle trailed off for a moment, looking down at the wine glass in his hand. "You are in want of _someone_ , then? A companion... or a pet, perhaps?"

Harry fell silent, unsure of why the other man would be asking him this question, and not a little confused by why he seemed to care all of a sudden. But then Harry decided that he owed this man the truth, if nothing else.

"Well, I ― " Harry began, unsure of how to speak of it or put his thoughts in a way that did not offend Lord Riddle.

"Go on," Riddle said, gaze intense and demanding after such a period of avoiding Harry's eyes. "You must tell me."

Harry felt a touch of warm-heartedness that the man seemed to be showing some concern for his well-being and social needs. It was this that finally encouraged Harry to continue.   

"I confess I would not be adverse to some company, my Lord," Harry said honestly. "If I were granted permission to leave the manor at times..." He trailed off, disconcerted at the way Riddle had fallen into silence.  

"Why?" The word was heavy like a hammer, and sounded final and menacing when it eventually left the young lord's mouth. The question was harmless enough. But Harry felt as though he had just betrayed the other man for some reason, and he consequently floundered.

"I only thought that it would be nice.... to go into town sometimes..." Harry struggled to find an answer. Truthfully, he did not have one. Harry did not expect that he would have to defend his desire to leave the manor at times. It was not as if he wished to escape. But perhaps that is what Riddle thought he wanted? Harry bolstered himself up to try and dissuade Riddle of this notion.

"I thought I might visit ― " Harry began again when Riddle cut him off.

"Diggory?"

Harry looked up then to see that Lord Riddle's face had darkened considerably, his mouth pressed into a thin, harsh, and unforgiving line. The knuckles of the hand that curled around his wine glass were white.

Harry swallowed and asked, "Is there something the matter, my Lord?"

Lord Riddle seemed to regain his composure again, and dabbed at his mouth elegantly with a napkin before standing. "No," he said without looking at Harry.

Harry froze. What did he mean ― ?

"'No', My Lord?"

Lord Riddle raised a brow at Harry before stalking over to stop just beside the younger man's chair at the other end of the table.

"I meant," Riddle said slowly and deliberately. "That you are not to leave this house. This is one of the rules I must insist you abide by." He paused to see if Harry had understood his words. Whatever he must have seen on the younger man's face appeared to satisfy him, as he continued, adding in a dark and ominous tone: "If you disobey this rule, however, be assured that I will not hesitate in delivering swift punishment. And do not think it will be as harmless as a mere visit to a dark arts family this time."

And with that threatening message, Lord Riddle stepped out of the room. Harry remained stock still and quiet in his seat.

* * *

After that fateful night at dinner, to say that Harry had been in a mood would have been an understatement. Harry fumed. His skin crawled and itched with the unjust restrictions put in place by his guardian. After all, who was Lord Riddle to command him like that? To first tell him not to speak to people who knew his parents? And then to bar him from any and all type of communication with the outside world? It was preposterous and tyrannical to keep such unfair control over him.

Meanwhile, Harry's attitude had not escaped the young lord in question. In fact, Riddle believed a blind man would have felt Harry's ire. The manor seemed to have acquired  a kind of black air during the past few days. The rooms were stifled with it and the walls were soaked with a lingering tension. Yet this was only half the reason Lord Riddle decided to make an effort to amend things. After all, it would not do good in pushing the boy away. And so to make sure Harry did not fall too far from his grasp, Lord Thomas Riddle decided it was time to win back his young ward's favour. And by doing so, invited Harry to the manor library in the West Wing.

When Harry received Riddle's invitation, it was not without a little apprehension and wariness. It had not escaped his notice that the older man was trying to make up for his restrictions on Harry. As of late, Riddle had been conversational and polite, as always. But more and more frequently he had even exhibited a few rare moments of _kindness_ to Harry. There was no doubt in Harry's mind that the older man was trying to make an effort. And to be frank, it was hard not to thaw under the attention and thoughtfulness displayed towards him. It still, however, did not lessen the sting from having to adhere to the ridiculous rules and power over him. But then again, Harry thought it was perhaps best to forget but not forgive in this circumstance.

 

The library was one of Harry's favourite rooms in the manor. The walls were lined with shelves upon shelves of books, scrolls, tomes, and texts. It was also the most comfortable room. At the other end two large, plush armchairs sat before an enormous, blazing fireplace above which an equally large painting of a lighthouse was hung. Harry loved to spend time sitting in the armchair and gaze at the painting, watching as the waves crashed against a magnificent and solitary lighthouse. Its bright light shone across the expanse of terrifying, roiling mass of water surrounding it. Harry wondered then if it were a real place or if the painter had made it up in their mind. If it was, Harry wished he could see it in person. But he knew that could never be as he was a prisoner now, as he always had been. He had to begin to accept his fate.

Lord Riddle was already in the library when Harry arrived, sitting quietly in one of the armchairs and gazing into the fireplace with a singular interest. He did not look up when Harry entered, but he did motion for him to sit down. So Harry did, albeit with a renewed sense of sobriety at having to be ordered around again.

When Harry was seated and as comfortable as he was going to be considering the animosity he felt towards Lord Riddle, the man in question sat up. With a flick of his wand, he summoned a book from the extensive shelves. Harry could not help feeling an inward tingle of delight upon seeing it. He found he never grew tired of witnessing magic, no matter how mundane the spell.

"I thought you might try your hand at transfiguration today," Riddle said, and opened the book to a page before he handed it over. Harry inwardly groaned. He had practiced many times to transfigure many objects, either with very poor results or complete failure.

"I understand your... reluctance. But as it is only a matter of practice, I'm sure success will soon be forthcoming. It's quite simple really," He explained and pointed his wand at an ornate lamp sitting on an elegantly carved wood table by one of the large bookcases.

Harry watched with unconcealed awe as the lamp slowly morphed into a boot before his very eyes. But when Riddle looked back at him expectantly, the dread from before returned with full force as Harry got up and stood near Lord Riddle. "Now, point your wand at the object you wish to transfigure," Lord Riddle said. "Then you must think of the shape and look of the thing you wish to turn it into to achieve the correct result."

Harry let out a small breath of frustration but nevertheless directed his focus on a vase next to the lamp-turned-boot.

Harry closed his eyes briefly and thought of the object before he cast the spell.

The vase shook and rattled on the table. It stretched as it's porcelain surface turned a bright orange colour and took on the dimpled texture of an orange skin. Then, just as suddenly, the vase became completely still and immobile.

Harry stared, mildly disturbed at the half vase/half fruit object. When he turned to his instructor, he found Lord Riddle had also cocked his head in mild curiosity at the sight. Harry could have sworn he even saw a faint smirk tug at the corner of his mouth. Disappointment, white hot and burning, flared up in Harry. Of course the spell did not work ― he was useless! He would never get it right. But before he could say what a waste of time this all was, Riddle had come over and stood directly behind him. Confused, Harry remained completely still as the solid and lean weight of Lord Riddle pressed up against him. The warmth that his body emanated distracted Harry as an arm gracefully came up and long, lean fingers wrapped around Harry's hand on his wand. Harry swallowed and tried not to shake from the electric spark the touch elicited.

"You must think harder, Harry," Riddle said. A warm puff of breath accompanied his words, ghosting over Harry's ear and cheek. This, Harry thought, was decidedly more distracting. He tried to suppress the shudder that wanted run down his spine to pool low in his stomach. "Image the fruit ― an orange, I presume?" Harry nodded and could almost feel the smirk that pressed against the side of his head. "Good. Now just image the texture in your hands if you were to hold it. The round shape and colour. Think of it's taste," He said softly. "The mixture of sweet and sour against your tongue. How plump and juicy it would feel in your mouth..." Harry could not help the soft gasp that escaped his lips. Just as he conjured the spell, Riddle murmured against his ear, "That's it..."

The tingle of magic that ran through Harry felt like fire in his veins. It was unlike anything he had experienced before when using his wand. Lord Riddle must have felt it too, and abruptly pulled away. Harry had to stop himself from falling at the sudden lack of support while the hand that held his wand dropped like a dead weight to his side. It was only then that Harry also realized Riddle must have been practically holding it aloft himself.

Harry stared at the table on the other side of the room where a round, juicy looking orange now lay atop it's polished ebony surface. Harry blinked and turned to see that Lord Riddle was regarding him with one of his inscrutable gazes.

"It worked," Harry said rather stupidly. Of course the spell had worked, the evidence was right there before them. But somehow Harry felt the need to validate it. He, Harry James Potter, had just managed to transfigure something successfully for the first time. The corner of Harry's mouth tugged up into a disbelieving grin. But upon seeing Lord Riddle's continued stare, he stayed any further thoughts of celebration. The elder man seemed to have finally managed to find the words to speak, however, because eventually he said, "Very good. You have done well. But you shall need more practice." Harry did not bother to hide the roll of his eyes. Of course nothing would ever be good enough for His Majesty and I-have-knowledge-of-all-things Lord Riddle. Exasperated but satisfied, Harry found that he did not mind much in any case. This was truly a cause for some inward celebration.


	13. Ignite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are so sweet with your comments. ♥ And because of this I finally present to you: the next chapter! And I've taken into account that it appeared like I was going nowhere with the plot, so... Here it comes! I kind of squashed it all into these last few chapters, along with a climax, haha. (Finally.) xP And that little 'M' rating starts to kick off at around this point so... You Have Been Warned.

Lord Riddle set aside the book he had been reading. The worn black leather cover with it's The silvery title printed on the worn black cover glinted in the dim light of his study. It read: _The Dark Art of Soul Manipulation_.

The young lord then went to take up a slimmer tome. This one had a burgundy red cover, the spine and edges decorated with an ornate and extravagant gold leaf design.

' _Romance, Courtship, and the Techniques of Seduction_ ' The cover proclaimed.

He had never had use for such a book until now. Lord Riddle had acquired many during his travels. Texts on various subjects ranging from the commonplace to the darkest and most unusual. He had also ordered a few here and there from traders and acquaintances. One would say it was Thomas Riddle's hobby. Since one never knew what they might want to look up or have need to know until they do, he chose to avoid such a dilemma. Yet, who would have anticipated that this particular novel would come in useful now? Lord Riddle opened the cover, careful of damaging the spine or binding, as some of the books were old and worn.

If Riddle were honest, the subject matter of seduction and courtship proved tedious and tiresome in regards to himself. Therefore, one could say his reluctance in reading up on the subject was understandable. But needs must; to secure Harry by his side and unearth his potential usefulness, Riddle would have to use any method necessary. And the first being to pursue ― or rather, _illicit_ ― a romantic interest within Harry if he wished to gain his loyalty. In fact, Lord Riddle anticipated that he may never need to do more than simply appear interested. Anything more... _perverse_ , would be unnecessary. There were always magical means with which Riddle could take care of these things, such as creating an illusion or orchestrating a false memory. Or the Imperius curse. But Riddle waved away the idea as he was certain it would not be necessary.  

Lord Riddle flipped through the pages in his study, taking in the provided information here and there. He examined the unnecessarily intricate and detailed pictures of positions that could be achieved when two men lay together, and settled back into his large leather chair. The hours passed until late into the night and still he remained, illuminated by the emerald fire dancing languidly in its hearth.  

* * *

It was a week later, when the first biting winds of a cold autumn swept through the garden, that found Lord Riddle and his ward walking together. Their boots crunched against the blanket of leaves on the path as everything seemed to retreat back into the earth in preparation for the long winter sleep.

The two gentlemanly figures shared a companionable silence as they walked side-by-side in a world of sunset colours, neither one feeling the need to fill it with anything other than their presence. Harry felt it to be strangely intimate in a way, but hastily banished the thought as he found his shoulders brush against the other man's once again that afternoon.

Things like this had been occurring more and more often lately. Harry would find Lord Riddle to be in much closer proximity than necessary, or simply engaging in casual touches that left Harry feeling as if he were burning from the inside out. It certainly did not help the inappropriate infatuation that grew within him each passing day. One could even argue that this unhealthy focus on his guardian caused Harry to become more conscious of the seemingly casual physical contact.    

Harry was brought out of his thoughts when he spotted a bush nearby, still with its leaves intact and healthy. A small round vermilion coloured berry then caught his eye, and Harry plucked it up.

"A hawthorn bush," he commented in mild wonderment before crouching to better examine the bushel. It seemed where one part of the garden died, another rose to life. Even in the rapidly cooling season, it never completely slumbered.

Harry plucked off another berry and straightened, holding it up to examine. These bushes were found in abundance in the front of the Dursley’s home, acting as a fence from the road. Many a time Harry was instructed to prune and gather its berries. He then caught Riddle's mildly curious look and explained shyly, "The berries are used in haw berry wine and one can even make jelly out of it."  Harry then popped the berry into his mouth, earning a raised brow from the other man. Harry grinned self-consciously while his tongue darted out to lick at his bottom lip where he felt a bead of juice escaped. Pale eyes followed the movement and made Harry's breath catch. Hurriedly, the younger man offered up the second berry to Lord Riddle. "Would you like to try it, my Lord?"

The man looked at him, and shocked Harry when instead of taking it with his hand, Riddle leaned in and opened his lips around Harry's fingers. Breathless, Harry watched in fascination as a pink tongue darted out and licked at his fingertips, quickly followed by a flash of teeth, almost making Harry drop the berry in shock and arousal. Then Riddle bit into the berry, the skin bursting between his teeth, and Harry thought it to be the most erotic thing he had ever seen. His trousers felt tight as his mind raced from the sudden onslaught of possibilities he thought he may never experience. His fingers glistened wetly and his heart felt as if it might hammer right out of his chest. And after a moment, his eyes finally found Lord Riddle's who saw a desperate question reflected in Harry's. One to which he would not answer just yet. It was better to make him wait, he thought. _To make him beg._

Riddle winced slightly and coughed, snapping Harry out of his inner turmoil by startling a surprised chuckle from his mouth.

"I must confess it has a bitter aftertaste," Harry said with a hesitant smile. Meanwhile it was all he could do to simply calm his rapidly beating heart.

* * *

That night Harry began to have strange dreams. Out of nowhere, images appeared in his mind that made it positively impossible to look Lord Riddle in the eye for days after. At inopportune moments ― at dinner, or in mid-conversation, Harry would find his eyes wandering to Lord Riddle's mouth and remembered what it had done in his dreams. How those pink lips had made a perfect ‘o’ shape as they gasped Harry's name. The hot slide of their manhoods when they brushed against each other. The delicious friction too much until their mixed seed lay pooled hot on Harry's stomach and he would awaken sweaty, sticky and panting, an absolute wreck.

It was not until the third or fourth time having these dreams that Harry knew ― Riddle _must_ have something to do with it all.

Harry could not have just come up with half the things he had dreamt when he had never even had such inclinations towards a member of the same sex before. The thought that Riddle was putting these images in his head was alarming and not to mention confusing. Lord Riddle could not possibly desire him, could he? _But then what was the purpose of having Harry on a string like this?_ These thoughts swam around in Harry's head for a long time before he finally broke and came to a decision. Harry would not give into Lord Riddle's game. Because that was surely what it was: a test.

Perhaps his guardian had found out about Harry's wayward thoughts towards him and wanted to see if he would take advantage? But Harry would never let that happen. He believed the honourable way was to simply suffer silently through the hazy, heat-filled nights of wanton ecstasy. And perhaps they would stop when Riddle saw that they had no effect on Harry. It would be difficult, yes. But there was nothing more to it.

It was only a few days later when Riddle had come to a decision of his own.

Lord Riddle had told Harry that morning that they would duel. He had been teaching Harry defensive and attacking spells for quite some time now after all, and believed Harry was ready. It was not as if Harry did not expect this. Harry knew it was only a matter of time before this was bound to happen. Yet somehow, the spectacled young man did not feel as prepared as he might have thought he could be.

No, Harry thought. Now, as he watched as a bead of sweat travelled down his guardian's exposed pale neck, Harry began to have doubts.

"You are fast, I'll grant you that," Lord Riddle said, as he took a moment to fold up the sleeves of his dress shirt. "But you need to be faster. Your defensive spells will only get you so far, Harry. You need to **_attack_**!" He fired off a curse and Harry's eyes widened in surprise before his brain quickly went to react. Side-stepping the spell, he cried out his own retaliation. The spell he used was not one Lord Riddle had taught him, but one that he had found upon his exploration of the library one day. Harry had been unsatisfied with the dark spells Riddle was teaching him, and had wanted something that did not do so much harm to his enemies. He knew this action would be scorned by his teacher but found that he did not care. Surely saving lives was better than taking them?

Lord Riddle eyed Harry with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. His chest rose and fell with the excursion of a duel, but found in his heart that he was elated. Harry was truly becoming a challenging and worthy opponent. Perhaps there lay potential in him yet. Although, Riddle did not care for the Light spells he used.

Harry needed to be harder. More unforgiving. One must inflict enough pain on his enemies to make sure it left no doubt in their minds who was superior.

Harry panted and watched Riddle cautiously. His mind had been clouded with the image of his mentor and guardian so undressed in front of him. It made him slow and distracted. It certainly did not help when the collar of Lord Riddle's shirt had been buttoned down, revealing a tantalizing amount of pale skin that glistening with a sheen of sweat despite the colder weather. His forearms now bared, Harry could not help imagine how they would wrap around himself.... Which they soon did. Yet not in the way Harry had wanted, however.

As their duel became more heated, spells and curses flew left and right until they moved closer. Proximity intimidated and heightened the threat of being disarmed, which soon became a reality when one of them cried an " _Expelliarmus!_ " and the other's wand was merely wrestled out of their grip. In a blur of motion, the two men were eventually on the ground, rolling around as each of them tried to best the other by pinning them down.  Which had turned out to be Harry in the end, much to his own surprise and delight.

With his hands holding Riddle's at his side, and thighs straddled hips, Harry panted heavily as a feeling of triumph coursed through him. He stared down at Riddle who looked up at him coolly, his eyes calm and watchful. As if he had not just been bested by someone younger and far less experienced in combat. Which suddenly gave Harry pause, a seed of doubt blooming in the back of his mind.

_Had Lord Riddle allowed him to win?_

Surely not. But then the other man's eyes flicked downwards and Harry followed his gaze.

Harry's heart stopped and felt his face flame upon witnessing the obvious tent in his trousers. As if burned, Harry scrambled off of his guardian. All the while Riddle remained silent and continued to watch Harry curiously. The slight rise and fall of his chest being the only indicator that he was out of breath.

Harry did not know what to say. The urge to turn on his heel and flee was overwhelming. To simply disappear from the earth altogether sounded even preferable.

And so, with limited options available, Harry did just that. He managed to choke out the beginnings of an apology before he sprinted away.

Lord Riddle smirked to himself as he watched the form of the younger man disappear down the garden path, leaving him to adjust himself as well. Admittedly, Riddle had not anticipated that he too would feel the effects of seducing Harry. But that was easy enough ignore for now. Perhaps it was more likely the power struggle from before that had intoxicated him. The rush of physical and magical combat must have simply gone to his head or, to be more accurate, his groin.

* * *

" _The young massster will not leave hisss roomsss_ ," Nagini informed Riddle later that evening. Instead of the expected anger or demands, Lord Riddle simply nodded once to a miffed Nagini.

"That's quite alright, Nagini," He told the man, and walked over to his liquor tray. He poured himself a finger of whiskey before continuing, "I would have expected as much. I think it's best we leave Mr. Potter to his own thoughts for a little while." Nagini cocked his head in a way that was telling of his inhuman nature.

" _Asss you wissh, massster_ ," He replied, and blinked his abnormally coloured eyes once before bowing silently out of the room.

Thomas Riddle moved over to the windows overlooking the gardens. It was almost too dark to see anything outside but still he remained, staring into the black night, his face set in contemplation. Perhaps he would invite Harry to his club tomorrow evening...

As soon as the thought struck him, Lord Riddle smirked silently to himself. After all, it should be beneficial to introduce the young Harry to some of the more... _risqué_ parts of what English gentlemen did to let loose in their spare time. For him to witness the stakes of gambling, the pleasures of the exotic serving staff, and perhaps have a taste of what stronger men have lost fortunes and lives to in feeding their addictions.

  
Yes, _The Walpurgis Club_. That would be his next move.


	14. Blaze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ smut happens ~ ! (And maybe just a sprinkling of more Jealous!Tom, as per requested.) Also - idk if I should tag this - but warnings in this chapter for recreational drug use and slightly dubious consent. ¯\\_(o3o)_/¯ ?

Lord Riddle was immaculate in his double breasted black tail coat and white cravat. Secondary to this thought, Harry noticed that he had never seen someone wear silver buttons before. They shone like stars on his exquisitely tailored dark tails. A solid cream waistcoat peaked underneath, running almost seamlessly into the white silk breeches and stockings he wore below. The carved snake head of his ebony cane gave a familiar glint in his pale hand while a devilish brow rose under the brim of a top hat.

"Care to join me, Mr. Potter?" Came Riddle's smooth voice.

Harry blinked and glanced self-consciously down at his own attire ― A single breasted navy tail-coat with brass buttons, a striped ivory and gold patterned waistcoat, and cotton pantaloons that he was certain were too small for his person. In fact, by the gaze Lord Riddle spared him, Harry suspected the elder must have caught the error as well.   
"I hope the clothes meet with your expectations," said Riddle. "And that you find them agreeable?" A pause followed his words as Harry debated whether or not to air his concerns.  
"The pantaloons..." Harry started, but hesitated. An expectant brow rose to prompt him and he coughed nervously. "They are ― erm, exceedingly snug. My Lord." Harry finished, shifting uncomfortably.   
"Indeed," The other replied, and spared another look down at Harry's slim but muscular legs. Harry expected something further to be said but Riddle said nothing ― only turned on his heel to stride toward the fireplace, where he vanished in a burst of juniper flame.

Harry could not help but feel that a faint air of smugness remained in the room, leaving him only the empty fireplace to direct his baleful look toward.

* * *

Lord Riddle waited beside the fireplace when Harry flooed in. Immediately upon stepping out of the grate, Harry was greeted by the distant sounds of raucous shouting and cheering from the other end of a large room. Harry mused that if it had been cleared of all furniture, it would perhaps be the size of a ballroom. Tables, leather setées, potted palms and other ferns were placed here and there while candles floated mid-air above the room. Sparkling silver trays of wine and spirits made their rounds about the room without any assistance other than pure magic and men sat at tables and couches, smoking cigars, and sipping on expensive wines. They conversed in alternating loud and sometimes very quiet voices. Various card games and betting pools seemed to be happening all around while others seemed to be simply enjoying the pleasures of their own company or that of their friends. More than a few even had the attentions of men and woman attending to them. Harry blushed to see this and immediately averted his gaze.

"The Walpurgis Club," Lord Riddle introduced. "Originally 'The Warrington', an aristocratic club for Tories. It was established by my despicable father, but has since been transformed. It is now a social haven for the wealthy and magical class. Current membership goes for 20-30 members. Exclusivity is our prized possession, after all." Harry took this all in without comment which seemed to satisfy Riddle. It appeared the young man could be moulded yet.

"Riddle! How are you, old chap?" A voice cried out nearby, and Harry looked to see a man with dark hair wearing the customary clothing of great expense. Granted his pretentious air, he appeared a rather casual and laid back sort of fellow. Another man stood beside him with fair hair combed neatly to the side. He was more carefully put together and dressed in lighter colours. Lord Riddle smiled politely, if not familiarly, in return.

"Lestrange. I'm quite well," Riddle nodded to the first man before he turned to the other: "Hello, Avery."   
"Evening, Riddle," The fair-haired man greeted in return. "We couldn't help but notice you bring company tonight." He said, and smiled at Harry. There was a glint in his eye that made Harry squirm as they shook hands.   
"This is my ward, Mr. Harry Potter," Lord Riddle replied. "And these are Misters Aldric Avery and Damien Lestrange."   
"How d'you do," said Lestrange, and took Harry's hand with a seemingly gracious smile just as Avery added, "A pleasure." Harry could already smell the conceited pureblood supremacy that rolled off the two men in waves. The same went for the entire establishment, if he were to be honest.   
"I'm sure our Tom here has brought you into our superior care in hopes to shock and alarm you with our pastimes," Lestrange said, cutting into Harry's inspections, and leaned in with a raised brow. "In which case I can assure you will not be disappointed." For some reason this comment elicited a scoff from Avery.   
"Don't be crude, Lestrange," The blonde admonished. "It's unbecoming."  
"Well then, what are we here for if not to let loose a little?" Lestrange remarked. "I believe it is our duty ― in fact, our great Merlin's given right! ― to make sure tonight we all behave as only beasts would dare. Wouldn't you agree, Riddle?"  
"Personally, I pride myself in the fact that I'm in control of all my human faculties, Lestrange," Riddle replied smoothly. "To command my base primal instincts at all times is no hardship. But by all means, I would never wish to force such difficult tasks upon you."  
Lestrange clutched a hand to his heart in a show of wounded pride: "You cut me to the quick, Riddle!"   
"Come now!" Avery chuckled. Riddle smirked and pressed fingertips to the small of Harry's rigid back.   
"Indeed. Let us take our seats," Riddle said.

  
Their party of four settled around a low table of polished ebony wood and reclined in plush, tawny leather sofas.   
"I must say, it's quite the thrill to finally meet the famous _Harry Potter_ ―" Lestrange grinned as he puffed on a cigar procured from his silver case. He exhaled a large plume of smoke that momentarily distorted his face before clearing away. "It's all anyone's been able to talk about, you know. This apparent lad Riddle's been keeping prisoner in his big manor on the hill..."   
"Quite so," Avery pitched in, and crossed his legs as he sat back with a cup of coffee. Apparently the beverage enhanced the taste of a cigar. "And can you imagine? Having to be kept in the dark all this time? How poorly you treat your closest friends, Riddle." Avery teased. However, Lord Riddle's face was an unreadable mask. For all the world he appeared as if hardly paying attention as he looked about the room lazily. If Avery and Lestrange anticipated a response, their disappointment was well hidden. The subject moved swiftly on from there. "I say, though ― Mr. Potter, have you tried a bit of the tincture of opium? They keep the most positively divine stocks of it here. I hear they lace it with some sort of exotic spice."  
"That's right! From one of the highest and most remote mountains in India, I heard," Lestrange added.   
"You don't say?" Avery said, a false look of astonishment on his face. "A place that filthy muggle hands haven't touched? I really must see it."   
Lestrange laughed and Harry's fists clenched in his lap.  
"I feel inclined to agree, my good chap. It's absolutely abysmal. That there are some of us that would even mate with those creatures... Disgusting."  
"Truly."   
Harry stood abruptly, teeth clenched so hard that he could taste the metallic tang of blood in his mouth.

Everyone seemed to have frozen in place. A heavy silence fell as the group sat and stared at Harry in confusion. Only Riddle seemed to be unsurprised by this outburst. His gaze slid over Harry casually as if he expected the response.

After a beat longer, Avery chuckled. Unsure if Harry were playing at something or not.   
"I say ― Is there something you wish to say, Mr Potter?" He said. Harry could not find the control he needed to respond, and could only stare heatedly down at the two men before he moved to leave. Harry's departure was cut short, however, when an iron grip on his arm stopped him. Harry tried to struggle out of the hold but found it impossible as the hand only seemed to tighten. And so Harry remained, his breath coming heavy and thick with suppressed rage.

"You'll have to forgive him," Riddle said after a time. His voice was level and sounded almost bored. "He has... a strong disposition toward muggles."   
Lestrange looked slightly sickened while Avery said, "He's... of mixed blood?" The words were uttered as if they were the most foul and hardest things come from his mouth.  
"Do you wish to say something, Mr Avery?" Lord Riddle's eyes were steel.   
Fortunately the fair haired man caught the dangerous glint in Riddle's eyes and plastered on a pleasant expression that only men like him could in such situations. Quickly, he replied, "Not at all." When Riddle's dark gaze moved over to Lestrange, the man simply inclined his head respectfully. But Harry could see there was not a little fear in the gesture as well. He thought it all looked like some kind of show of dominance he had seen when his Uncle's sister Marjorie sometimes visited with her bulldogs. Her prized dog, Ripper, was a particularly unpleasant creature and frightened Harry most of the time. And just like his aunt Marjorie, Harry had seen the dog display a particularly aggressive means of subduing those deemed weaker than him.

Once the moment had passed, a considerably tenser atmosphere lingered. So Lestrange had called upon a strange creature that happened by. It was small and had long, bat-like ears with large, watery eyes. It seemed the only clothing it wore was a sack of some kind. Its appearance shocked Harry for a moment, as it had been one of the only magical creatures he had seen with his own eyes other than Nagini.  
"Bring us Esmeralda, will you?" Lestrange said to it.  
"Yes, Masters," The thing squeaked.  
"And some of your finest laudanum, if you will," Lestrange added. The creature bobbed it's large head and snapped its fingers before vanishing with a loud pop. Harry blinked, too distracted to realize Riddle had somehow coaxed him back into the seat beside him.

A silver platter arrived at their table shortly and Lestrange lifted the lid to reveal a small brown bottle accompanied by four silver spoons. With a few anxious looks thrown in Riddle's direction, Harry's apprehension only heightened when the other man did not respond or try to assuage him. Eventually Harry gave in and leaned in to ask, "What are we doing here?" to which the other man gave only a secretive smile.   
"Patience is a virtue, Mr. Potter," Riddle said, the words too low for anyone but Harry to hear. "We don't want to ruin the surprise, after all."   
_Yes, we bloody do!_ Harry thought back frantically. Especially if it had to do with spending any more time in Lord Riddle's "friends'" company. And discerning from Avery and Lestrange's smug looks, the surprise could be nothing good.

Harry watched, a small part of him fascinated, as Avery and Lestrange took up the teaspoons and began to pour a small dose of the murky amber liquid in each. He then felt something being placed in his hand and looked down to see Lord Riddle had handed him one of his own.

"Don't be shy now," Riddle said and took the bottle from the table. Harry stared between his guardian and the bottle with unease. Eventually, he pushed through his trepidation and held up his spoon which earned him a slow smile from Lord Riddle. The man's eyes held his as he took the spoon from him and poured out a few drops. Harry went to take it but Riddle tutted and held it back. " _Open up wide_ ," He hissed softly and Harry did, entranced by the command and how close Riddle sat. Tentatively he opened his mouth and Riddle brought the teaspoon to his lips. Harry felt the bitter liquid over his tongue and he winced. Once he had swallowed it all, Harry could not keep the distate from his face. A glimmer of amusement shone in Lord Riddle's eyes as he sat back and watched the other.   
"And here I thought you had a taste for bitter things," Lord Riddle said, seeming far too close all of a sudden. Harry blinked and cleared his throat. He attempted to sit up, but could feel the tincture already start to take effect. It made his limbs heavy and his mind pleasantly numb.

"The saffron takes a little off the edge, I believe," said Avery, who had surreptitiously watched the exchange between the two. Even Lestrange sat beside him with an enraptured expression.   
"Not enough, it seems," Lestrange added and hid a grin behind his wine glass. Harry scowled but felt the effect to be lost being in such a state as he was in. He found that any energy to summon up a convincing one had left him all of a sudden.

They were soon interrupted by a very beautiful woman. Her skin was sun-kissed and her chestnut brown hair was half-tied, leaving a few remaining curls to tumble over her bare shoulders. The woman's dress accentuated her slim waist and presented her bosoms in a flattering and seductive light. Harry's mouth felt dry as he looked on her.

"Good evening, sirs," The woman said with the barest hint of an accent. "May I be of assistance tonight?"   
"Ahh, the lovely Esmeralda," Lestrange said. "Always a pleasure, you see." He took her hand and planted a kiss on it. She smiled coyly. "And the same goes for you, my fine English gentleman." She then looked around at the four them. "Perhaps you are looking for group entertainment?"  
"Tempting offer, my sweet lady, but no. You see, we have a guest of honour tonight," Lestrange said, and nodded to Harry. "And we hoped you might... Mm, shall we say, experience him a little in the wonders of the flesh?"Avery and Lestrange shared a wolfish grin, missing the glint that appeared in Lord Riddle's eyes.

Esmeralda's delicate brows rose. "Oh?" She said, and her dark eyes pinned Harry in his seat. Despite his beating heart, Harry found he was too relaxed and comfortable to say or do anything much else. But then she began to walk over.

She moved slowly, her hips swaying tantalizingly with each step she took closer to Harry. Her movements were sinuous and graceful. Much like that of a snake, Harry thought dazedly as she ended up straddling his lap. His eyes felt heavy as they lifted to look up at her and found he had no clue as to what to do or where to put his hands.   
"Such a pretty man..." Esmeralda purred and added, askance, to the others: "Are you certain he has never touched a woman? Because his hands..." She slid them up her stomach to touch the soft and pillowy mound of her bosom. "Oh my," She whispered and then took one of Harry's fingers and lifted it to her mouth. Just as his finger touched her plush lips, however, she stopped.

There was a long moment of inaction which slowly lead to confusion. That is, until all eyes spotted Riddle's wand ― It had been pulled out and pointed directly at the woman and Harry.  
"I'm afraid your services will not be needed on him tonight," Lord Riddle said bluntly, and ― against her will, it seemed ― Esmeralda leapt off Harry before being released from whatever spell had been on her.

Dark eyes bore down on the young lord. Whether with anger or a strange lust was unclear, because the next moment Esmeralda had seated herself across Riddle's lap, side-saddle, while her arms wrapped around his pale neck. A mouth travelled up the side of his bared throat towards his ear and, cocking his head slightly to better access it, she whispered, "You ruin a girl's fun." She pouted and Riddle moved to murmur something too low for anyone else to hear, "Lay your fingers on him again, and you shall soon find you have none remaining." This made Esmeralda pause. But then her shoulders slowly shook with silent laughter. She pulled away and and approval glinted in her almond-shaped eyes.

"It is good to have something precious," The woman said. "You must protect it well." And then she was up and off Riddle's lap before she turned to say to the rest of the group: "Gentlemen. I bid you a good evening." Esmeralda threw a coy look between Riddle and Harry before she left while Avery and Lestrange shared baffled looks.   
"What on earth was that all about?" Avery said.   
"Never mind that," came Lestrange. "Looks like Mr. Potter won't need a woman to find God after all!" Lestrange laughed and they looked over to see Harry had untied his cravat and unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt.   
"It's quite warm, isn't it..." Harry muttered. He licked his dry lips as he lay back on the couch, a dewy sheen to his skin.

It was then that Lord Riddle saw the whore had spoken the truth. Harry looked simply tantalizing in the candlelight.

* * *

Time seemed to stretch and quicken at once, becoming all but forgotten and unimportant. During Harry's more lucid moments, he was aware that Lestrange had called over another woman to keep him company while he and Avery played cards. However, it seemed Lord Riddle had forgone the invitation to join and was simply content to lay back and enjoy a cigar while he watched Harry.

Meanwhile the green-eyed young man in question could not find the focus nor enthusiasm to do anything other than ride this euphoric wave that had washed over him. Harry was only vaguely certain of his guardian's attention, and that there seemed to be a bet going on between Avery and Lestrange that somehow involved him and Riddle. But by the fact that the other man did not seem to mind, Harry supposed it could not have been so very bad. All Harry could care about was this amazing bliss he felt. And that Lord Riddle's eyes contained so much heat.

Riddle's eyes were like flames ― but so much _brighter_. They made Harry feel warm all over and suddenly too confined in his clothing. He squirmed against the leather sofa and wanted to crawl out of his skin; it was too hot. His breath was shallow and felt as if he could hardly breathe. Then a finger travelled down the open neck of Harry's shirt and when he opened his eyes again, he saw him ―   
Lord Riddle stared hungrily down at Harry.   
"Will you accompany to one of the rooms?" Riddle said, and his voice was like velvet. Harry was hard pressed to resist. All he could do was arch into the heat that was his guardian and sighed, " _Yesss_." The smirk this elicited cut sharp and crimson into a porcelain face.   
" _That's a good lad_ ," Came the seductive reply.

* * *

Harry twisted on silken bedsheets and gasped, "More." He needed **_more_** of this ― this _ecstasy_. Somewhere above him, Lord Riddle hovered. His face held inches away from Harry's own and heard him tut while a finger ran along the side of Harry's face.   
"Not tonight, love,'" Riddle said softly. Harry pouted and arched off the bed, suddenly restless. The young lord put a hand on his chest and gently pushed him back down again. "However, tonight I'll give you something else. Something I believe you might like..." Harry hummed and smiled lazily.   
"Is it a present?" Harry muttered.  
"Oh, yes," Riddle replied and his hand slowly came up to press the tip of his wand to Harry's temple. He then slowly began to insert the memory when Harry gasped. The green-eyed man writhed and called out Riddle's name, distracting him for a split moment. It broke his concentration and, before long, Harry had started to rut his hips up against Riddle's. The other man had to shut his eyes against the contact and the heat that rushed through him. He bit down on his tongue and breathed out a breath he had not known he was holding.

Lord Riddle began to think ― _Perhaps he should just... ?_

He opened his eyes and gazed down at his ward with new consideration. Harry's face was flushed an appealing pink while his eyes were glazed and his mouth hung slightly agape. Those jade eyes seemed to plead with him. And then those lips...  
 _His lips._   
Riddle pressed them hesitantly against Harry's own and elicited a small sound from him. Encouraged by this, Lord Riddle had been about to break away again when Harry did something unexpected ―  
The young man rose up and chased down Riddle's lips until he captured them with his own. Once he had done so, Harry then began to devour Riddle's mouth.

Lord Riddle took in a sharp breath at the sudden kiss, momentarily caught off guard by the ripples of pleasure that this caused in him. And to his surprise, the feeling did not stop there. Harry wrapped his arms around the other and rolled them so that he sat on top of Riddle. Harry pulled away to stare dazedly down at the other man before he proceeded to grind his hips down on him. Riddle let out a startled grunt and stared up at Harry with something akin to awe; Harry was a sight to behold ― so wanton and provocative as he moved, his shirt open and hips working like that of which Lord Riddle had only ever seen in the exotic dancers of islands far away.

It became too much for him and Riddle tumbled Harry so that he was once again looking down upon him. Harry must have taken this for a sign of encouragement, however, as he then began to undress him. He pulled at the other man's waistcoat until large, pale hands stopped him. Harry looked up in dazed confusion as Riddle instead went to open the fall front of his breeches and slowly guided Harry's hand inside. Harry stroked the long hard length there while hands gripped hard at his shoulders.   
"Yes, that's it. Very good. Just like that..." A sumptuous voice whispered close to his ear. The hands then started to pull at Harry's clothes. "Let me see you... Let me see your pretty body." Inhibitions at an all time low, Harry did as ordered and pulled off his shirt to lay himself bare before Lord Riddle. "Mmm," Riddle hummed, and gazed down appreciatively at the sight of a debauched looking Harry beneath him. "You really are a jewel, aren't you," Riddle smiled. "And so ready for me to just _take_."   
Riddle's mouth descended down on Harry's again in an awkward but satisfying exchange before the mouth travelled to Harry's jaw, his neck, and then his collarbone.

Harry gasped at the attention and his mouth made silent shapes before he bit down on his lower lip. Kisses were planted all the way down his sternum, his stomach, and then stopped at the waist of his pantaloons. Quick fingers pulled open the drawstring and then there was a warm hand surrounding him. Harry inhaled sharply at the contact before he let out a long, low moan. He was vaguely aware of someone whispering 'yes, yes, yes' over and over, and had a suspicion it might be himself. The fist continued to stroke up and down his manhood and Harry's head tossed to and fro on the pillow.   
" _Thomas_ ," Harry whimpered, unknowingly slipping into their secret language. But then the hand had stopped and Harry's eyes slowly blinked open to find Lord Riddle was staring down at him with an unreadable expression. "My Lord?" Harry asked, and wondered if he had done something terribly wrong. But before he could say anything further, Harry's mouth was being devoured by hot lips. Large hands cascaded over all over his body now, stroking and caressing. Harry's body felt as if it were on fire and the beautiful pressure underneath his skin built up to a crescendo.

"Say my name," said a voice that could not have matched Lord Riddle's for the roughness of it. " _Say it_ ," It hissed again, and hands pressed bruisingly into Harry's hips which bucked up against Riddle's only to find a matching hardness there. "Thomaaasss," Harry whined. "Oh, please. I beg you, _please_!" Lord Riddle abruptly pulled away again. But when he looked down at Harry, it was with an unmistakable heat burning in his eyes.

An almost cruel smile transformed the other man's face as he stared down at Harry. It felt like he were taking enjoyment out of being in control.   
"I must say, I've always had an... _appreciation_ for the male physique," Lord Riddle said, and stroked Harry's thigh. "But I confess to never having the good fortune of following up on such an interest. So I fear and delight in saying that tonight shall be a first for both of us, it seems," He nipped at Harry earlobe. "Let us hope my research in the matter proved helpful and does not disappoint." He practically purred as his hand slid between Harry's thighs and dipped into the crevice there. Harry gasped and latched a hand onto the back of Riddle's neck as his back arched up off the mattress. He felt a wave of ecstasy and strangeness in having someone breach him there.

Riddle's hand travelled up from Harry's knee to the inside of his thigh and Harry shuddered while his manhood stood proud and insistent against his stomach. There was a murmured _'accio'_ , a sweet scent, and then slick fingers were pressed against his entrance. Harry jerked at the foreign intrusion and a slight protesting whine escaped his lips.   
"Shh-shh, love. It's alright," The rough voice whispered between kisses pressed against Harry's face. " _You must open yourself to me._ " Harry stared hazily up into Riddle's now-deep-sapphire eyes, and whatever he found there must have been enough for he relaxed enough that the other man's digit was able slide into him. Harry bit his lip and a crease appeared between his brows that Riddle smoothed away with soft lips.

Time seemed to melt into one long strung-out moment of heat and desire as two fingers were replaced with three and then Lord Riddle was pulling away again. Harry was about to protest when a hand placed itself flat on his stomach, fingers splayed, while the other directed Riddle's slicked up organ into Harry's tight entrance. Harry's toes curled at the feeling of his guardian inside him and a long, low moan escaped his lips. Meanwhile Riddle had closed his eyes and paused for a moment, whether for Harry's benefit or his own, was unknown. All that mattered was that _he moved again_. Which he eventually did, and pumped in and out of Harry with cautious movements at first ― as if he were handling something fragile, or was about to break himself. But then Riddle's thrusts began to take on a new vigour, and he soon began to move in and out of Harry with abandon.

Harry cried out with rapture. The sound seemed to echo alongside Riddle's harsh breaths until thick ropes of Harry's seed painted his stomach. The blurred image of Riddle stiffening as shudders wracked through his body above him was the last thing Harry saw before he drifted off into a bliss-filled blackness.

* * *

The sight Lord Riddle woke to was that of his ward and lover illuminated by a golden halo of sunlight. It streamed in from the windows and his breath halted unpleasantly at the sight. Riddle's eyes drank in Harry's pale golden skin, the permanently mussed and post-coital hair that fell about his face; a picture of delicate but masculine lines. The thick brows that added charm and expression.

As if responding to the visual scrutiny, juniper coloured eyes fluttered open to gaze sleepily back at Lord Riddle. He felt a stab-like sensation and quickly hid it from his face should it been seen.

Riddle could almost see the precise moment as realization hit Harry. Once it had, the younger man promptly shot out of bed, his face panic-stricken and sporting a rather impressive morning glory. Harry tried in vain to cover up in his flustered and embarrassment state but only managed to find a nearby cushion as his only means of providing decency.

"M-my Lord?!" Harry squawked.   
"Please calm yourself," Riddle replied as levelly as he could. Harry was scrambling for his clothing now and appeared as if hardly paying attention to him. Riddle did not like this.   
"Enough," The elder said and slid out of bed, still half-dressed in his silk breeches and shirt. Harry looked from him to his own naked body with a look of horror dawning on his face. Lord Riddle reached out and grabbed Harry's shoulder, forcing the other to look him in the eye. " _Harry_ ," He repeated, this time causing the other to finally pause at the use of his first name. "Do not work yourself over this."   
"What happened?!" Harry gasped in shame.  
"What fate intended to happen," Riddle explained calmly. "You gave yourself to me last night. We are now intertwined ― the both of us. There is nothing to fear or be angered about. Nature simply took it's course."

Lord Riddle attempted to smile reassuringly but could not be sure if it worked or not. He stepped forward and when Harry did not pull away, he gingerly placed a kiss on Harry's lips. A familiar tingle travelled through him at this, and still could not accustom himself to doing such a thing. He was more than willing to try, however, as it was oddly pleasant doing so with Harry.

The younger man seemed to have finally relaxed beneath Riddle's hands.   
"Is that better now?" The older gently asked, and his fingers dragged down Harry's side to stop at his insistent member. Harry shivered and uttered a soft intake of breath. "Oh, look at you..." Riddle said with a note of pride in his voice as he gazed approvingly down at Harry's straining, leaking cock. "Always so ready for me."

The next few moments were a blur as Lord Riddle gently coaxed Harry back to the bed and pushed him down. They exchanged a passionate kiss that once again inflamed them. This time, however, their magic reached out towards each other unlike it had done last night. For now that Harry was lucid and sober, his magic leapt beneath his skin. It sang with Riddle's kiss and scalding touch. Without his awareness, Harry began to claw at Riddle's clothing. But his efforts were once again halted by those large pale hands.   
"I wish to see you..." Harry whispered, his tone almost whining.   
"In time," Riddle answered back just as quietly and kissed Harry's forehead. "You may touch me, if you wish."  
Harry stared up at Riddle, swallowed, and tentatively pressed a hand to the bulge in Riddle's breeches. He then began to undo the fall front with shaking fingers and freed Lord Riddle's own insistent member. Harry gave it a few languid strokes and revelled at the size and feel of it in his palm. This earned a soft moan from Riddle and Harry's chest felt full with anticipation and desire. Then, without any further ado, Riddle thrust roughly into Harry's hole which was still slick and loose from their previous night's activities. 

A few minutes of enthusiastic and efficient love-making progressed before Harry came with his guardian's name on his lips.

Harry lay panting on thoroughly rumpled sheets a few long, languid moments later.   
"Good boy..." The young lord murmured beside him. He gazed almost admirably down at the mess on Harry's stomach and his spent cock. But Harry's eyes drooped now and became heavy, and so he slipped off into a doze with the other's soft words in his ear.

* * *

They broke fast in a high-class wizarding café in town. The establishment was tastefully, if oddly, decorated. Elegant birds chirped in brass cages next to potted plants of sweet-smelling flowers. Meanwhile the mid-morning sun shone down through a glass ceiling, painting everything in a fresh light. The low hum and chatter of the wealthy conversing and breakfasting around them was a background noise. Yet the only thing Harry had eyes for sat across from him.

As Harry caught Riddle's eye once again, he could not help the tentative and warm smile that stretched across his face. Nor could he stop the mad fluttering in his chest ― so much like that of the fluttering wings of those birds trapped in their cages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. This might be a personal record in length for a chapter for me. And crikey, was it a monster to edit. Let me tell you.


	15. Ashes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aha! The next chapter! In which we finally get back on track with the 'fairytale' aspect of the story.   
> And I wanted to thank you guys again for your amazingly (no, seriously amazing) comments you've been leaving lately. If I could, I would give you all a gigantic group hug. xx

Harry and Lord Riddle were in the library once again. Sitting in plush arm chairs in front of a crackling fire. The smell of old books and wood smoke and ― dare he think it? ― _home_. For that was what it was rapidly becoming to Harry. Riddle manor and its young Lord had quickly captured his heart with their mysterious, dark, outer appearances but somehow warm and intriguing centers.

Lord Riddle had sit up from his chair and, with a flick of his wand, he summoned a book from the extensive shelves. Harry felt a small tingle of delight upon seeing it. He found he never grew tired of witnessing magic no matter how mundane the spell.

"Turn to page three hundred and ninety-four." Harry started at Riddle's voice, and saw that the other man was holding out the book to him. Harry took it and ran his hands over the worn black leather cover while he read the silver letters printed there: **_The Dark Arts of Soul Manipulation_**.

"I was in the library the other day when I came across this book," Riddle said almost conversationally, though Harry discerned a certain sombre quality to the man's voice for some reason. "And I read something rather odd about a bit of rare magic, and I thought, perhaps, you could illuminate me." Harry blinked in confusion and a deep frown creased his forehead. How on earth would he know any more about magic than Lord Riddle? He was about to voice this thought when Riddle continued, "You see, for I have discovered the reason why I was unable to touch you for such a long time, Harry." Harry felt the air around him still. He froze and waited for Lord Riddle to go on. "It's called, as I understand it... a _horcrux_."

When Lord Riddle did not seem as if he were going to elaborate, Harry shook his head and asked, "I'm afraid I don't quite understand. A _horcrux_ , my Lord?" Lord Riddle looked at him then, and the force of his cold stare was slightly overwhelming after going so long without it. Harry felt as if the man were looking straight through him. Lord Riddle slowly rose from his seat and extended his arm to tap the page of the open book on Harry's lap once with the tip of his wand. Harry looked down at the text before him and the pictures on the page beside it. The first picture depicted a man throwing a curse at another, whom, in the next picture appeared to be dead at his feet. The last picture showed the man who had thrown the curse to be screaming in pain as his chest looked as if he were being ripped open by a blinding light. Harry shuddered and averted his gaze back to the man standing before him.

"Horcruxes," Riddle repeated the word in a low voice that sounded close to a whisper, as if he were murmuring to himself. "I came across the term while reading and I confess I didn't fully understand it myself either. But a horcrux, my dear Mr. Potter, is an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul." Harry merely stared.

"How... is that possible?" Harry asked.

"One splits ones soul and hides part of it in an object. By doing so, you are protected, should you be attacked and your body destroyed."

"Protected?"

"That part of your soul that is hidden lives on. In other words, you cannot die."

A heavy silence descended on the room then. The only sound being the crackling of the fire and the distant ticking of a grandfather clock in the far corner. Harry gazed into the fireplace, his mind awhirl with too many thoughts and questions. Swallowing, he continued: "And how does one split his soul, my Lord?" There was a rustling of fabric as Lord Riddle resumed his seat.

"I believe you know the answer to that already," Came the reply.

"Murder," Harry whispered.

"Yes. Killing rips the soul apart."

Another long moment passed before Harry tore his gaze away from the fire to regard Riddle. His stare seemed to be caught by the fire but his eyes still held that same intensity they had from the start of their conversation. Despite the warm glow being cast over the two of them, Lord Riddle's features appeared as if they were carved from marble. His slim fingers absently adjusted the peculiar ring he always wore.

 

After some more time passed, Harry spoke into the silence: "But what does this all have to do with your ability to..." He tripped over the word 'touch' and instead finished with, "To make skin contact with me?" Lord Riddle's gaze returned to Harry once more and his eyes were dark.

"That is what I hoped you would elucidate for me," The other man said. "You see, I believe that you have within you a piece of my mother's soul." Harry blanched at this while his mind flooded with alarm.

"That's impossible ― !" Harry cried when Riddle cut him off.

"Is it?" Lord Riddle's gaze positively burned Harry in his seat. His tone effectively silenced anything more Harry had to say. "Because that is the only explanation I see that could possibly fit. You are able to talk to snakes ― a rare ability that only those who have descended from _Salazar Slytherin himself_ are possessed with. And then there is the familiarity of magic whenever our is in contact with each other." Riddle's lips thinned into a hard line and he seemed to be hesitant as  to whether to speak his next words or not.

"My mother died when I was merely six years old. I found out that she had been killed shortly after attacking the family of the man who had taken her child from her and imprisoned her in an asylum." Riddle's face had twisted into a snarl as he said these words. The anger still remained after all these years, it seemed. "And do you know the name of the man who had done this to her?" Harry opened his mouth to speak but Riddle had already leaned forward and spat the name, "James Potter." Harry stared at Lord Riddle in shock. "Your _father_."

Harry could not believe what he was hearing. How any of this could be true. The words were too nonsensical.

"That can't be. You must surely be mistaken ― " Harry started.

"I _assure_ you. I am not."

Harry sat back in his chair with a heavy slump. Riddle regarded him for some moments before he got up to stand over him. Harry looked up at the other man with wide, innocent eyes. Ones that looked as if something terrible had happened. Which ― granted ― it had, in a way. Riddle reached out to cup Harry's cheek and the younger man leaned into it as if he craved the contact.

" _Do not fret, dear one,_ " Riddle said softly in their secret tongue. " _I am not angry with you._ "

"How?" Harry said, his voice small.

"You are not your father," The other replied simply before he dropped his hand. Harry immediately missed the contact as he watched Riddle go to stand in front of the fireplace with his head bowed as if in deep thought or recollection.

 

After a moment of just watching him, Harry eventually lifted himself from his seat to go stand behind the tall, dark haired man. Harry hesitantly reached out to encircle the man's waist with his arms and gently pressed his body up against the slender but strong back. He felt Riddle's body tense against his before it slowly relaxed, and Harry dared to slide his hands under the other's coat. He felt the heat from the fire on the fabric of Riddle's chest and sighed. He let his head fall against Riddle's shoulder and simply stood like that, loving this closeness that they were able to share and hoped it would not end.

But Harry's hands were restless, and had an agenda on their own. They moved in small, soothing circles across Riddle's chest at first before they turned to a caress. Lord Riddle reached out a hand to brace himself on the mantelpiece as Harry explored his clothed body with his hands and imagined what it would look like underneath. Selfishly, he wished he could touch him properly.

As soon as the thought crossed Harry's mind, Lord Riddle was pulling away to face him. They looked upon one another and recognized the heat that they shared.

And in the next moment, Riddle's lips were suddenly on Harry's and his hands had come up to frame Harry's face while the latter fisted the fabric at Riddle's waist. The kiss was hard, slow, and passionate and had Harry reeling when they pulled away for air. Lord Riddle watched Harry's face and Harry could see the fire light reflected in his guardian's eyes, making his heart race in his chest.

"Take off your clothes," Riddle whispered and Harry obeyed, shuddering despite the warmth in the room as he hastily divested himself of his waistcoat and undershirt. Lord Riddle stared hungrily down at Harry's exposed chest and Harry's nipples hardened under the intense gaze and sudden chill. Riddle's hand came up to roll one between his thumb and finger to which Harry inhaled sharply at the contact. Lord Riddle's head soon followed his hand and came down to open his mouth around one. His tongue laved at the hard nub and Harry cried out in shock, his back arching. This caused the other to smirk around the pink nub before attention was paid to Harry's trousers next. Riddle untied them and pushed them down and off until Harry stood completely bare before him.

 

"I want you to undress me," Riddle said in a husky voice and Harry almost choked on his excitement. He wondered for a brief moment if he had imagined the other saying it. But Harry's hands once again seemed to have a life of their own, for they immediately began to shakily pull off Riddle's cravat and waistcoat, lifting off Riddle's shirt to reveal smooth, pale skin. It felt to Harry as if he were unwrapping a gift and he wanted to savour the moment.

Harry's eyes drank in the picture that was a shirtless Lord Riddle before they travelled down to the pantaloons that hid an impressive bulge. Harry bit down on his lip before he sunk to his knees and ripped the buttons open to pull the pantaloons down, freeing Riddle's cock.

Harry felt light-headed with the rush of what he was about to do.

Slowly, he gave the head of Riddle's member an experimental lick.

Lord Riddle jerked back from the contact and Harry looked up to see shock and lust warring in the other's eyes. When nothing else was forthcoming, however, Harry went for it again. This time he nuzzled the base of Riddle's cock before he pressed an open mouthed kiss along the side of his shaft. Long fingers curled into Harry's hair and tugged sharply.

"Don't," Tom whispered. Harry looked up once more in confusion. But then he saw it.

The turning away of Lord Riddle's eyes spoke of humiliation, and it was then that Harry understood. A warmth pooled in his belly at the endearing thought that Lord Riddle might be _embarrassed_.  
He should have known. (The other man had told him as much.) For this was the first time something like this had happened for him as well.

 

Harry stroked Riddle's thigh and pressed a soothing kiss against his hip.

"Please," Harry breathed against the straining organ before him. "Let me pleasure you. I promise you will find it agreeable." Riddle made a small desperate sound in the back of his throat.

“No, it’s not ― proper," The other man said with some strain.

“Proper is just a word men use to enslave others with,” Harry replied, already ghosting his lips across the other man's member and giving small nips and licks here and there. Lord Riddle's hand in Harry's hair tightened in response while a low moan escaped his lips. Harry noticed his eyes were shut tight and he whispered, “Look at me.” He was surprised when the other did, (instead of scolding him for telling him what to do), and pale eyes ― not cold, blank, or dead as they had been when they first met, but warm and maybe just a little scared ― looked into his own green ones and Harry smiled. “Do you trust me?”

“I think that should depend…” Riddle replied and Harry grinned, pleased to find he already knew the answer.

“Then let me make you happy,” Harry said. And before Riddle could say anything more about it, Harry took hold of his erection and wrapped his mouth around the head. Riddle's eyes widened and he cried out just as he caught Harry looking up at him, emerald eyes hidden by heavy lids and almost engulfed by the pupils. He gasped when Harry slid his mouth down the rest of the way and then began to move his head. Riddle grunted at the sight of the young man as he sucked down his flesh with hollowed cheeks and stretched, pink lips.

Lord Riddle came with the name of his ward on his lips, spilling himself into the cavernous heat of his mouth.  And Riddle knew, as he crumpled to the ground beside his treasure in front of the fire, that they were not done for the night. In fact, they were far from it.  

And while outside the air was cold from the lingering winter, inside his heart a fire had been lit from within.  
  


* * *

  
"Oh, look!" Harry cried. A large eagle owl had appeared from the grey, early spring sky to perch regally outside the window pane. But that was not what caught Harry's attention, for a letter of some sort seemed to be attached to its leg. Nagini walked over, unlatched the window, and took the rolled up parchment from its talon. He then proceeded to place it on a silver platter alongside an elegant knife before he walked over to present it to Lord Riddle.

"A letter, master," Nagini announced and Riddle put down his porcelain china cup and saucer. He reached to pluck the letter opener and opened the scroll, untying the ribbon and breaking the red wax seal. Harry could only get a glimpse of the crest embedded in it, however, and sat by in eager expectancy. His childish impatience amused Riddle and the latter finally proclaimed, "It seems to be an invitation." He then handed it over so that Harry may quickly read the elegant, cursive script:

 

_ _

 

 

There was a curl of distaste to Harry's lip as soon as he finished reading the invite which caused the other man to chuckle softly.

"Come now," Riddle said in a placating manner. "If one wishes to play the game, one has to keep up appearances. No matter how unsavoury the company."

"You cannot tell me you will seriously attend, my Lord!"

"On the contrary, Mr. Potter," The other man said with a small curve to his lips. "You will be accompanying me."

"I most certainly will not!" Came Harry's indignant retort.

"You most certainly will," The other replied, and his smirk had quickly turned to a devilish grin. "And that will be all that is said on the matter, my dear man."

Harry sulked and pouted in as much of a dignified way a man of his age could get away with, but found it particularly difficult when Riddle's lips were on his. They were terribly distracting from his prideful fit. So when the young Lord pulled away, Harry was too dazed to hold the grudge he so desperately wished to keep. Riddle graced the sight with a sly but fond smile.  
  


* * *

  
If Harry had thought Malfoy Manor to be grandiose before, he was astonished to find it was as though he had stepped into the extravagantly lavish home of a king. Beside him, Lord Riddle ― dressed as the great ruler Julius Caesar and appearing quite in his element ― looked about with a slight raise to his brow.

"They have certainly outdone themselves this time," The young Lord murmured loud enough for only Harry to hear.

"Utterly ridiculous," Harry grumbled, though he was begrudgingly awed at the sheer magnitude of wealth displayed in the decorative home. He himself wore a fashionable mimic of medieval armour to match his character, William Marshal, the first Earl of Pembroke. Apparently the man was often referred to as one of the greatest medieval knights who rose to prominence for his bravery in tournaments and warfare.

 

"Hello, Mr. Potter," Came a familiar drawl and Harry inwardly winced. He turned to see non-other than the Malfoy heir come swanning over in what appeared to be extravagant princely garb. Harry found he knew not enough of history to place whom the other man was supposed to be exactly, nor did he care.

"Malfoy," Harry replied with irritance. The answering smirk only heightened his annoyance. "My Lord," Draco bowed his head to Riddle whom greeted him back in kind. The latter saw this as his cue and glanced to Harry as he hid his own smirk.

"Go now. Play nice," Lord Riddle murmured next to Harry's ear to which the other man let out a small, exasperated sigh. Riddle nodded to the fair-haired young man and excused himself from their company to seek out some more mature, no-doubt influential or useful party guests to charm.

As soon as the other man left, Mr. Malfoy turned a razor sharp look on Harry and said, "So glad you could make it." Harry regarded the other with immediate distrust. Malfoy was being far too (albeit underhandedly) pleasant. Though it was not as if he could be anything else in public. Not in this upperclass company. But the sickly sweet grin put Harry on edge nonetheless.

"You wish to say something to me, Mr. Malfoy?" Harry asked. Malfoy looked to his two goons with a smirk that only put Harry further on edge.

"Only that I hope you will join us in a rousing game of cards?" Malfoy said. Harry only deliberated for a moment before the urge to beat Malfoy won over any preservations he had.

"Very well," Harry replied.

 

They sat around a table and a silver salver appeared bearing port wine and glasses for them all. And it was then that Harry realized he had made a grave mistake.

If they were to play a game with stakes, Harry had no fortune of his own to offer. He was also certain Mr. Draco Malfoy already knew this. So it was then up to Harry to think of whether this game was set out to humiliate him by admitting his poverty aloud, or if Malfoy had something else in mind entirely. But then the answer came ―

"A game without bets," Malfoy announced and surprised Harry. "The reward is simple: The winner shall have the pleasure of seeing the loser being subjected to _Susscrofa Swina_ for the rest of the night." He regarded Harry with a malicious look.

Harry knew that spell. He had seen it while begrudgingly studying a rather large tome on hexes and jinxes Riddle had made him read. The jinx apparently caused the unfortunate victim to become endowed with a snout, curly pink tail, and a matching pair of swine-like ears for at least several hours. "Scared, Mr. Potter?"

"You wish," Harry replied with his own daring smirk.  
  


* * *

  
The small playing table had gathered a considerable crowd of people over the course of the evening. Riddle witnessed looks of admiration, awe, and even lust directed at his ward as the young man's eyes danced with mirth and a boyish smile played across his lips.  Sounds of delight and victory escaped Harry's sweet mouth and soon the young Lord had decided that these were things no one else should hear except himself. Lord Riddle watched as Harry rose from his seat and stretched across the table to place his cards under the fair-haired man's nose with a flourish. When he did so, Riddle could not help but notice that the figure and shape Harry presented made him immediately wish he could blind any eyes that dared to look on it. Yet still Riddle kept his reserve. He would not let himself succumb to the ugly thing inside him.

But then hands began to _touch_ ― Riddle watched as if through a red fog as a hand squeezed Harry's shoulder in congratulations. Saw that same hand travel down his arm while another filled his glass and raised it to those already wine-stained lips.

A glass of champagne was set down with more force than necessary while a few curt words were needed to shake Riddle free from his dull but potentially important contacts. He only had one objective on his mind now.

 

Lord Riddle pulled the celebrating young man aside and cast a silencing spell around them.

Harry looked at him with startled eyes. "My Lord?"

"Enjoying yourself, Mr. Potter?"

Harry grew bewildered at the formal tone. "Have I done something to upset ― "

"Have you no _decency_?" Riddle hissed. " ** _No shame?_** "

Harry shook his head, taken aback by this sudden wave of anger from his guardian. "I don't understand what I have done to upset you so!"

Riddle glared and grit his teeth. His hand came up as if to touch Harry but retreated. The aborted movement somehow hurt even more as Riddle looked as though disgusted by the other man.

Harry breathed carefully through his nose before he spoke. And it was with great effort that he managed to say, "My Lord. I would be grateful if you could enlighten me as to how I have shown myself in any manner that has been indecent or shameful."

"You strut about and fling yourself at others as if looking to be fucked like some wanton whore!" Riddle exploded. Harry flinched back at the sharp words. A heavy moment of molten silence followed where Riddle's eyes flinted red before he averted them.

Harry stood still and shocked at the vicious outcry. It was inconceivable to him how childish his guardian was behaving. He expected the other man would have had more maturity about letting him do as he pleased. That he could be himself without the fear that he belonged to, or was held prisoner by, someone looming over him like a dark cloud. Had he perhaps been wrong all this time? Would he never be free?

But then a thought had struck him.

Riddle, whom had locked himself up in his manor for most of his life ― alone, with the exception of his pet and servant/companion ― had not experienced deep affection towards another person before. Or scarcely even felt a shred of caring towards one either. So it was with this sudden realisation that Harry felt like he had a great responsibility weighing on his shoulders. That if he should break the other man's heart, whether intentionally or by accident, it may never grow back again.

Harry softened under the fury that boiled like cold flames in Riddle's eyes.

"No, Thomas," Harry spoke gently. "I would never want that. I have only ever wanted you, and I do not see such a thing changing in the near future, or at all."

 

A moment stretched into an endless time where Harry feared nothing would happen. That he had lost Riddle in his jealousy and fear that compelled his need to possess.

But then Harry saw it ―

A slight, almost imperceptible shift in sea foam eyes. A dam seemed to break in Riddle and his shoulders fell a fraction that may not have been evident to anyone other than Harry. The small gesture spoke volumes to the younger man and Harry ventured to speak only when a sufficient time passed to allow the other man to gather himself. It made Harry wonder if the other had ever expelled so much emotion before now.

"Shall we return to the party then?" Harry asked.

"No," Riddle replied, and it felt subdued and wavering. As if it took all his effort just to say anything at all. "We shall return home."

Harry warmed at the 'we' and 'home'. For that is what it was now. He had a home and shared it with one of the most important people to him. He found could not have been happier of the fact.  
  


* * *

  
That night, as they lay in Riddle's silken sheets together and stared up at the canopy of the four poster bed, words like a confession were spoken into the darkness, a private moment.

“On my travels,” Lord Riddle's voice began in a low hum, soothing and rumbling to Harry's ears. “I met a Seer woman in a cave in Bulgaria. She told me… she told me I could never achieve great power without the one of whom would be my other half." Harry saw the dark shape of Riddle's hand raise between them. A soft burst of glowing dust and a string of light  emerged from the tip of his wand. Harry watched as it slowly floated up towards the curtained ceiling of the bed to form a constellation of stars. Harry thought it to be one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. Riddle had resumed his story, however, and Harry listened with renewed rapture. "So I had found Nagini. Yet… I still felt such great power that was beyond my reach. And then I heard of a young man who spoke the language of snakes.” In the soft light of the false stars, Riddle’s lips twitched and he paused to turn his gaze to Harry beside him. “And living right next door. So of course, I had to summon you. I needed you to be here. Yet when you were, at first I felt no change ― no surge of power. But now… _I feel it_. Harry ― “ His eyes gleamed as he looked at the younger man and took Harry's shoulders in a firm grasp. “Together we could be so powerful. Invincible. Everlasting… You must join me. It was meant to be. I found you. You are my missing piece.”

Harry did not say anything for a moment and simply processed the information. Then, quietly, he asked the dark ceiling dotted with silver stars, “Do you love me, Tom?” The subdued question seemed to take the other man completely off guard. His eyes visibly shuttered and he rose up on his elbows to regard Harry better. His lips twitched and he uttered something close to a laugh. Harry thought it was not right. It was not certain enough.

“Of course,” Lord Riddle said with renewed vigour. “But that ― surely, that is not what is in question here? Have you heard nothing of what I said?”

“Oh yes…” Harry said softly, almost sadly.

“What is it?” The other asked with a frown. He was growing more confused and frustrated by the minute. “What is wrong? Is this not what you wanted?”

“I ― …” Harry began, but he found no words could come out of his mouth. He had no idea as to what to say. “I do not know. I thought I wanted…” Instead of replying, Harry turned away from Riddle and the other did not stop him. Harry felt an unbearable weight suddenly in his chest. He had fooled himself. His guardian did not care. He did not want him. He wanted power. But then Harry thought: Perhaps anything with Riddle would be better than nothing, would it not?

Harry turned to the other man again with a broken smile forced on his lips.

“I will follow you. Wherever you go. I will come,” He said.

Lord Riddle smiled, but Harry found it was one of the kind he disliked. It was a satisfied smile, like the cat that had eaten the canary. Lord Riddle sunk down beside him in the pillows once again to enfold Harry in an embrace that lacked its usual heat and warmth.

Or perhaps Harry fabricated that as well? It was becoming difficult to know what was fantasy and which reality. Had he really believed that this man loved him?

Harry broke away from the embrace and Lord Riddle did not protest. A fact that prickled in Harry's chest with an acute pain.  
  


* * *

  
The morning dawned bright and early when Harry slipped out of Riddle's bed, the other man still fast asleep. Harry did not bother to dress himself fully before he walked bare-foot through the manor, meeting no one except the silence and creaks and groans of the house. He traveled on carpet, wood, and stone floors until he finally came to the cool and uneven grass of the gardens.

 

Harry did not stop as he wandered further into the gardens. He wrapped his arms about himself to ward off the crisp, chill air while the dewy grass turned the soles of his feet the colour of earth. Eventually he found himself in the middle of a patch of tall flowers and closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. It was like nectar and the fresh morning air refreshed him. It awoke his mind and body and he let his arms fall to the side even though the wind crept into his open shirt, tugging and pulling it off his shoulder slightly.

 

Harry opened his eyes and let them roam among the buds and the still-bare things, ready to awaken from their winter sleep. Then his gaze caught the ivy wall far on the other side and he went over to it.

Harry stood at the bottom of the immense brick wall and looked up at the creeping plant that he had once used to climb down into the garden many seasons ago. Now it was weak, leafless and bare. Yet if he were to look closely, Harry could see there were hints of life yet to come.  

"Vernoooon!" A shrill voice cried, effectively startling Harry out of his thoughts. He almost stopped breathing altogether when it took him no time at all to place the familiar cry. "Vernon, where is that blasted kitchen maid?! I thought I TOLD her to bring Diddykins his breakfast early this morning."

"What's that, dear?" Came back a distant shout, possibly from inside the house.

"I said WHERE IS THAT GIRL ―"

"Here, miss!" Came a panting reply.

"Not. Good. Enough!" The unmistakable voice of Petunia snapped. "You do realize Mr. Dudley has his important meeting with his father in town today!"

"Yes, ma'am. Terribly sorry, ma'am."

"Well? What are you waiting for then! Get inside and start cooking!" Harry sneered at the memory of having orders like that placed on him. He wondered who the poor serving maid was now.

 

After a small deliberation, Harry quickly climbed up the ivy again. Yet he took extra care to use the brick as well as the plant, as it was still weak.

 

When Harry was able to hoist himself onto the wall, he looked down to see a bushy-haired girl in maid's uniform being berated heavily by an irate Aunt Petunia.

"Honestly, girl! You know we could just as easily sack you. And then what? You'll be out on the street, that's what!"

"Yes, ma'am," The girl mumbled.

"Speak up then! Stop stooping. You look like a hippopotamus. Goodness knows why we even took you in the first place ― " Then it seemed Petunia had finally spotted Harry, as she suddenly let out a shriek and looked as if about to faint. She clutched at her heart through her cheap and gaudy dress, eyes wide with fright. "What on earth! Where did you - ? VERNOOOOONNN!" She trilled.

The large man immediately came bumbling out of the house and stopped dead when he saw Harry. His eyes widened and his mustache twitched.

"BOYYY!" Uncle Vernon blustered and pointed a fat finger at Harry. "How dare you come here and ― "

"Vernon!" Petunia hissed, cutting off her husband's tirade. She then whispered something furiously in his ear that caused his demeanor to immediately change. Uncle Vernon suddenly seemed to sweeten, sickly like treacle. It made Harry sick.

"Why, _Harry_ ," He said. "How nice of you to visit. I don't suppose you've come to give us your gratitude in letting you stay with that man ― "

"His name is Lord Riddle," Harry said icily. "Of Riddle Manor."

"Ah. Yes, of course," Petunia smiled, her eyes pinched in false cheer. But Harry could see the greed gleam in them. "Perhaps you can give his ― er ― butler some of our freshly laid eggs to show our gratitude for all that he has given us. Perhaps some sugar? Would he like sugar?"

"I do believe I have some fine cigars in my cabinet!" Uncle Vernon cried. "Would Mr. Riddle care for some port? I've acquired a splendid bottle just recently. Been saving it for special occasions, you see." He chortled falsely, his belly rumbling.

"Why, yes!" Petunia caught on. "We would love to share his company for a night. Perhaps for a cup of tea?" Harry narrowed his eyes at this relatives' obvious attempts at sweet-talking him. They must think him a fool if they thought he actually bought any of this after so many years being in their care. "Girl! Fetch our nephew some tea!"

 _Oh, so now he was their darling **nephew** ,_ Harry thought. He found this quite typical of the Dursleys.

 

Before the harried looking girl could rush off into the house, Harry stopped her.

"There is no need for that," He said. "I shan't be staying long. Uncle Vernon. Aunt Petunia." He nodded to them each and then turned his attention back to the girl. "What is your name?" She blinked owlishly at him but immediately responded, "Hermione Granger, sir!"

"Miss Granger," Harry smiled and nodded to her politely. "Should my aunt and uncle ever feel too much to bear, a place at Riddle Manor will always be welcome to you." Hermione gaped at him and when he turned back to his aunt and uncle they were staring at him in shock. "Miss Granger here will report to me any hardships she may suffer from now on. If I hear of any intolerable treatment she may receive, I will personally come to deal with you myself." And with that, Harry turned on his heel and began to climb back up the wall again.

 

"Now just you wait a minute ― !" Came Uncle Vernon's angry tone. He charged up behind Harry and began to pull viciously on his ankle. Harry felt himself slip from his tenuous grip on the wall and vines and experienced a moment of freefall as he lost his hold on the wall altogether. But then he felt a hand encircle his wrist in a strong grip.

Harry looked up and was startled to find Riddle there. He seemed as if he were also half dressed, but with a discernable storm brewing in his azure eyes. Once he had hoisted Harry up on the wall beside him, he turned a stone cold stare down at the Dursleys.

"You will answer for this one day," He said darkly. And with that ominous message, Lord Riddle wordlessly levitated them back down the other side of the wall where they landed safely on the soft grass.

 

Riddle was utterly silent as they traveled back through the garden until Nagini met them at the manor with dressing gowns and a blanket. He handed them each the robes and Harry the blanket.

"Fetch a basin of warm water for Mr. Potter, please, Nagini," Riddle said shortly.

"Master," Nagini bowed and left them to do as he was told, which was when Riddle rounded on Harry.

" ** _What_** do you think you were doing?" The young lord said sharply. Harry took a step back, affronted by the admonition.

"I will not stand by while my relatives abuse another person under their care!" Harry shot back defensively. There was no further retort from Riddle, however, and he instead grew dark and sombre as Nagini reappeared with a basin of hot water. Steam rolled off the surface and Harry sat back in the front room armchair as he sunk his ice cold feet into the water, wincing at the sting of it.

"What were you doing out in the garden so early?" Came Riddle's low question once they were alone again.

"Nothing. I was simply going for a walk."

"It is either or, Harry," Riddle grumbled. "I saw you. Do not think me a fool."

"I never thought you were," Harry replied, snippish, and took a sip from his tea. He wriggled his toes in the warm basin of water, feeling a little warmth seep back into his body. There is a clink of china as Riddle put his cup down with more force than was necessary. Harry chose not to react to it.

 

After a moment where they simply sat and drank their tea in front of the fire, Riddle finally said, "Those people..." He trailed off as if looking for a way to properly summarize his feelings towards them. "Those _muggles_ will be the first to be subjected to the new world order that we will create." Harry frowned.

"Whatever do you mean by that?" The younger man asked. Lord Riddle looked him in the eye as he replied, "I mean that they will suffer when the magical world finally rises up and takes what is theirs."

Harry stared. "I beg your pardon?"

"Do not be dull, Harry. It does not suit you," Riddle sighed. "You must know that some things will have to change when we finally take over."

Harry shook his head, confused. "You're suggesting... what? Torture? Mass genocide?"

"I'm more than suggesting it," Riddle conceded nonchalantly.

"You cannot expect me to agree with this! Surely you must be joking," Harry said, a panic started to well in his throat. Riddle's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Why ever not? How else do you expect to achieve our ideals?" The older man scoffed. "Petitions? Pah!" Harry was taken aback. Blindsided. He decided to be adamant in his refusal to take part, however.

But when Harry made this clear, Riddle felt as though he had been struck.

"I thought you would want this," He said.

"No, not this, Thomas. Anything but this," Harry shook his head. "What you say is ― It's cold-blooded murder." A furious silence overcame Riddle before he got up and abruptly stormed away.

"You clearly need time to think this through," Lord Riddle said in a clipped tone and held up a hand when Harry opened his mouth to dispute him. "No. You may speak when your wits are about you. Perhaps the cold air outside has addled your mind. Nagini will have to check to see that do not have a fever." Harry stared after Lord Riddle in indignation and a little fear at what this could mean for them. A slosh of water escaped the basin his feet were in in his haste to stand and shout after the other man, "My mind has never been more clear!"

But Lord Riddle, he found, was already gone.  
  


* * *  

  
Lord Thomas Riddle was distant and thoughtful ('Brooding', Harry supplied in his mind) the next day. Harry hardly even saw him except for their regular shared meals and tea times. It all instilled in him a sense of déjà vu.

Eventually the other man came to Harry while he was in the library where he absently levitated a few books (instead of studying them, which was probably what he should have been doing). They drop with a series of heavy thuds when he saw Riddle standing there.

Harry immediately sensed a strangeness about him.

The young lord walked over to Harry and bent down to place a kiss on his forehead.

"Will you come out with me?" Lord Riddle said in a measured tone. Harry looked up at him questioningly but Riddle only said, "I wish to show you something."

Riddle avoided Harry's eyes as the latter acquiesced by standing and then took the hand offered to him. Harry braced himself as, once he had done so, they vanished in a swirl of colour and a resonating cracking noise.

 

Their feet landed upon grass. That was the first thing Harry was aware of. The second was that he was extremely disoriented, and if it were not for Riddle's grip on his elbow that steadied him, he would have no doubt found himself face-first in the dirt by now. Taking a moment to gather himself, Harry straightened and then looked about to see that they were surrounded by trees. But then Harry listened, and it was with a dawning delight that he realized could hear the sea.

Harry's eyes snapped to Lord Riddle who smiled but said nothing as he led Harry through the trees and eventually to the shore of a beach. Harry stared with wide, bright eyes as he gazed out at the water. He laughed breathlessly and stumbled onto the sand and tore off his shoes and stockings to feel the sand beneath his feet and between his toes. He grinned and howled in delight as he splashed into the water. He revelled in the breeze that came whipping off the waves to push at his clothes and hair, bathing him it's salty smell.  
  


Riddle watched with a subdued fondness as his ward frolicked in the waves for a bit. The sight of Harry was... arresting.  

"This is not all I wished to show you, Harry," He said once the other had returned to his side. Emerald eyes turned to look at him, so bright and alive it made Riddle's heart ache to see it. So he kept his eyes in the distance. "You see that there?"

Harry turned to the horizon and could just make out the silhouette of a structure. He had thought it a mass of rocks at first, but upon further examination Harry saw that it was in fact a lighthouse nestled among a few rocks. Waves crashed against it and a spark of recognition hit Harry.

"Surely that cannot be - ?" Harry started and Riddle conceded.

"The lighthouse from the painting."

"The one that hangs in your study?"

"The very same."

Harry let out a huff of laughter. "Tell me we might see it some day," He said almost wistfully.

"My dear Mr. Potter," Riddle said. "It is the very reason I brought you here today." He then turned to lead Harry some ways down the shore until they came upon a small boat. They both got in and grabbed an ore to start their journey towards the lighthouse.  
  


* * *

  
The lighthouse, Harry thought as they approached, was magnificent. It was far larger than he would have expected from looking at it in the distance. But now that they had reached it, Harry was in awe.

There seemed to be a multitude of levels that included a kitchen, drawing room, a room for bathing, and a bedroom. It was quaint and homey and had Harry immediately taken with it.

"Oh, Thomas," Harry whispered as he gazed out at the water from the bay window in the bedroom. The sun was just setting over the horizon and painted the surface of the waves in liquid gold and bronze, while the sky was a coral pink and vermilion. It made Harry wonder at how Riddle had managed to shown him yet another beautiful sight.

Harry turned to look at the man in question but found that the other was regarding him with a blank look. Lord Riddle's eyes held that strangeness again that immediately alerted Harry who sat up. "Thomas? What is it?" Harry asked. But there was no reply and Riddle only began to move away. Harry went to follow but found he was stopped by some kind of barrier. He frowned in bewilderment at the apparently clear air before him. "What's going on? Thomas?!" But Riddle just gave him this incredibly saddened look before he turned his back on him.

"I'm afraid it's for the best, Harry," The man said. “But do not worry. The shield will allow you to move about the house as you please. Only, you may not leave it.” Blood boiled under Harry’s skin.

"What are you talking about? Let me out!" Harry cried and pounded his fists on the invisible wall that separated them.

"If you will not see that my way is the only path, then I am willing to wait until you do," Came Riddle's sombre reply as he gazed back at Harry through their invisible wall and began to disappear through the doorway. Harry screamed after him and hammered away at the shields.

"Thomassss!!"

But Harry's cries fell on deaf ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh ho ho~ Did someone call for trouble in paradise?   
> Also - Is it me or do my chapters just keep getting longer?? xP


	16. Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for some clumsily inserted explanations (in rather unnecessarily long monologues) with a few compromises thrown in! :D *jazz hands*

" _Bombarda!!_ " Harry screamed, and a ripple effect stirred the walls of his room. His spell ricocheted, however, and caused him to be flung across the room where he crashed into a table, books and various debris falling atop him. He was battered and bruised from his relentless war on the shields that kept him imprisoned. It seemed that whatever he turned on it, retribution was given back to him tenfold. But Harry would not stop.   
He got up and ignored the bump that swelled on the back of his head and the aches in his arms and legs to stand by the door again.   
Harry lifted his wand and paused.   
His hand shook and an overwhelming feeling of frustration overcame him. Harry yelled out and abandoned his wand to set about destroying with his hands. It proved much more satisfying, even if it were fruitless and pathetic.

The door opened at that very moment and suddenly Harry had his wand in his hand again, ready and aimed at Lord Riddle.  
The other man stood there and Harry watched as his eyes carefully took in the damage of the room before they turned on Harry himself. Nothing was given away in that stone facade, and he said nothing. Harry's breaths came harsh and fast. He did not lower his wand.

"Release me," Harry grit through clenched teeth.

Lord Riddle simply stared back at him. "So you have come to agree as to what needs to happen, then."

Harry scowled and hissed, " _Thomas._ "

" _Harry,_ " Riddle hissed back and took a step toward him. " _You are making this more difficult on yourself ― for us ― than it need be._ "

Harry growled in frustration and lowered his wand ― they both knew it was an empty threat. 

"Why must you be so ― ! Why is this important to you?!" Harry cried out.

Lord Riddle took another step toward him with arms held in a placating gesture. "Come now, you cannot tell me you haven’t thought about it? How great a potential we have? We have such _power_ at our fingertips and what are we doing with it? **_Stifling it_** , Harry! We are killing the magnificent gifts we were born with by hiding ourselves away from muggles. We are corrupting it with our marriages to such filth. The whole wizarding world and it’s society ― Just think how great a thing it could be! If only we did not have to bow down to the non-magical.” He was aflame with his ideas again and pressed forwards into Harry’s space.

The younger male only stared stonily back at him. If Riddle thought he could be as easily wooed as the others he had managed to charm and manipulate into joining him, he was sorely mistaken. 

“You are going about it the wrong way, Thomas. Can’t you **_see_** that,” Harry tried desperately to explain. “Killing them is not going to make anything better! You’ll be no better than them! People will live in fear ― not just muggles! EVERYONE.”

“Sacrifices must be made when wars are fought. I thought you would understand that.”

“It doesn't have to be a war!!”

“Of course it must!” Riddle exclaimed as if he were being ludicrous. “What do you think they would do if they find out, Harry!? Let us be? _Listen to us?_ Finally give us a respectable place in society?”

“But Thoma ―”

“NO! _WE WILL ALL **BURN**!!!_ "

Harry's mouth clicked shut and he stared in shock at the flash of fear that briefly bled through the other man’s features. They stared at one another in silence, both huffing from the force of their emotions and convictions. Harry shook his head slowly. His throat suddenly felt too tight and what he said next came out almost in a whisper.

“I don’t want to lose you to this.”

“Then don’t,” Riddle's voice was also softened. He moved until he was inches away from Harry and lay a hand on his cheek. Harry cherished the contact, the _warmth_ and promise of it, before he turned away.

“But I will not stand by and watch as you cause bloodshed," Harry continued. "I cannot.”

He felt the keen sting of unshed tears well up in his eyes and hoped to hide them from the other man.   
There was a heavy silence behind Harry before the response finally came: “Then so be it.” The baritone voice Harry loved had once more returned to a cold and emotionless one.   
“You can watch from this tower. And you will see. You will see how right I am in the end.”

Harry said nothing in response and heard the door shut behind him, leaving him in the dimness of a room full of broken things. Only then did he allow the tears to fall, silently.

  
* * *  
  


Harry was sat at the bay window once again. It had been a days ― or weeks, Harry could not recall anymore ― since his imprisonment in the lighthouse. At first there had been intermittent visits from Lord Riddle, but Harry would not exchange words with him. He refused to even acknowledge the other man's presence when he did show himself. Therefore, it was unsurprising when the young lord's visits became scarce and few and far between. Then only Nagini would visit. Harry was also unsurprised to learn that the man snake was poor company, and only came to restock the pantry with food and perhaps make him a cup of tea or a meal sometimes. He also cast the odd reparo on the broken items Harry would be too apathetic to clean up himself.   
So it was after such a visit that found Harry staring forlornly out the window. And it was because of this that he was able to see when a pale figure in a little row boat made its way towards the lighthouse.

Harry's heart leapt in his chest and his eyes strained to see that it was a man. He seemed to be dressed in a rather alarming shade of pastel colours, and had a peculiarly long white beard...  
Harry jumped up from the window to press his face to the glass, his breath fogging it in his excited state.   
_Mr. Albus Dumbledore! But how?_  
Harry watched as the old man hobbled out of the boat and looked up at the lighthouse as casually as if he were admiring the brickwork. He then disappeared around the side of the lighthouse and a few seconds later Harry heard a knock at the door.

Harry leapt to attention and raced down the steps. Even if he could not open the door, perhaps he could call out ―   
But just as he neared the bottom of the stairs, Harry heard a jarring _boom!_ and then a heavy thud as something heavy fell. When Harry walked into the foyer, it was to see Dumbledore calmly stepping around the door that had been completely blown off its hinges and fallen to the floor. Dust rose from it and the old man coughed slightly as he dusted off his clothes. When he spotted Harry, he smiled.

"Ah, Harry! My dear boy," He said. "You have certainly been hidden well. I dare say we've been searching for you for quite some time now."   
Harry stared in complete bewilderment before he found the words to speak.

"We? How did ― How did you find me? You must help me! Mr. Dumbledore, sir, I've been held here for weeks and I must ― " Harry began desperately before the other cut him off.

"Yes, yes, I quite understand," Mr. Dumbledore nodded as he placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and lead him from the room. "And I must insist that you tell me absolutely _everything_. But first ― I think a spot of tea is in order."

  
Once they had sat down with a cup of tea, Harry hardly touched his for nerves while Dumbledore happily sipped away at his. It seemed the older man was oblivious to the obvious tension in the room. Either that or he was not troubled in the least by it. Meanwhile Harry was virtually on the edge of his seat.

"Mr. Dumbledore, sir ― " Harry began but was once again interrupted.

"Have you any biscuits?" Dumbledore inquired. "I have a particular fondness for the lemon biscuit."

Harry's mouth worked in silent confusion before he jumped up to get the damnable things. He set them down on the table before Dumbledore who took one and happily nibbled on it.

"Sir, _please_ ― " Harry started again.

"Yes, I believe we have some things to discuss about our friend Thomas, don't we?" 

"May I ask who told you were I was?" Harry questioned again. Dumbledore responded with a secretive smile.

"You may indeed," He said. "And it appears there are more who care for the welfare of our young Lord than we thought."

Harry mused on this.

"Nagini?" The young man ventured, but it seemed unlikely. Why would Nagini go against Lord Riddle's will and tell _Dumbledore_ of all people where Harry was? But there was a certain twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes that told him this might just be the case.

"Not necessarily," The old man said. "But one does not cancel all societal obligations, transport goods from the manor at irregular hours, and not arouse suspicion. I believe Nagini's sleuthing work was not as up to par as is normal either. Whether this was due to carelessness or not, one cannot know for certain, can they." Dumbledore finished with a twinkle in his eye and sipped on his tea. Harry thought on this and grew a little worried. What could Riddle be doing that has even his trusted servant and companion running to Dumbledore of all people?

"I fear our friend appears to be in a bit of a rut, shall we say. Lover's quarrel?"

Harry winced at the question and pursed his lips. "Something like that," He replied bitterly.

"Well, I'm afraid that whatever it is, it has made Thomas so blind with rage that he has decided muggles are not worth living any more."

This jolted Harry to alertness and he exclaimed, "What has he done?!"

Dumbledore merely raised a brow and nodded his head to signal for the other to sit back down again. Harry had not even realized he had gotten up to brace his hands on the table. Harry sat back down uncertainly and visible effort.

"Fortunately for us, nothing as of yet," Dumbledore explained calmly. "But that does not mean we won't have to prevent what will come. You see, Lord Riddle has gathered quite a following amongst his peers in the Dark Art families. And it appears that they are planning an attack of some sort."

Harry wondered how he could know all this, but shook away the question to replace it with another:   
"But how can I help?"

Dumbledore smiled. "I am very glad you asked," He said. "And to start, you can assist by going to him."

"Going to him?" Harry repeated.

"Just so."

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand."

"I mean that you must talk to him, Harry. Try and dissuade him from this path of tyranny and bloodshed."

"I've tried!" Harry said with not a little despair tingeing his voice. "Believe me, I've tried. It won't work. He will not listen to me."

"Ah. But in that, Harry, I believe you are wrong," Dumbledore said softly and reached out a wrinkled hand to pat Harry's on the table. Eyes that were somehow sympathetic and understanding looked into Harry's face.   
"It is my belief that you have already changed his mind in a great way by simply caring for him."  
Harry stared in disbelief and not a little bit of hope as the other man continued:   
"And by giving him that affection, you have greatly influenced him."

Harry lowered his gaze then. "Apparently, it wasn't enough though..." He said sadly.

"It is always enough," Dumbledore replied. "Now, you must go to him. Minerva will take you to the house tonight. It is our belief that this will be his first place of attack."

Harry looked up at that. "What house?" He asked, and a heaviness seemed to shadow the old man's features all of a sudden. 

"Number four, Privet Drive."

_The Dursleys._

  
* * *  
  


Harry was in a room with an assortment of people. Most of whom he recognized (Mr. Remus Lupin, Lady McGonagall, Miss Luna Lovegood and Mr Neville Longbottom, etc.) and some who were unfamiliar. They were all talking amongst each other but stopped once Harry entered the room. He had been told that they called themselves _'The Order of the Phoenix'_ , a gathering of magical people that were opposed to the Dark Art families that wanted to take over the world. Apparently whatever Lord Riddle had planned was taken seriously enough for them to gather and prepare for some kind of counter-attack.

Thankfully, Harry was saved from all the stares when Mr. Lupin pulled him aside.

"Harry, how are you," Mr. Lupin smiled kindly and gave a reassuring squeeze to Harry's shoulder.

Harry tried a feeble smile back. "A bit out of my depth, I'm afraid," He replied honestly. "I don't... I don't think I can do this. What everyone's asking of me."

Mr. Lupin just gave him an understanding nod. "No one is asking the impossible, Harry. We just want you to try. We'll be there. All of us. In case you need us."

A moment passed where Harry basked in the wonderful feeling of having people that cared for him. People that had his back and with whom he could have a normal human interaction with.

The moment was interrupted when Mr. Lupin continued, "Your parents would be proud, you know."

A bitter grimace passed over Harry's face in response. "I doubt it. All I've done is manage to get myself imprisoned by a madman and fallen in love with him ―" Harry seemed to realize, belatedly, what came out of his mouth and he froze.

Mr. Lupin did not seem to mind, however, as he went on to say: "Yes. They would. And so would your godfather." He looked very sad for a moment. "If Sirius were still with us, I have no doubt in my mind that the two of you would get along famously. You are very much like your father, you know."

Something in Harry ached and warred with one another. On one hand, he wanted so much for it to be true. But on the other, he could not help but hear Riddle's comforting voice saying, _You are not your father._   
Harry nodded dumbly and spoke the question that had been bothering him for some time:   
"Why did my father take Mr. Riddle away from his mother?"

Mr. Lupin stooped his head so as to be able to catch Harry's eye before he spoke.   
"Your father was an officer of the law, Harry. He was doing his job," He said, and motioned towards a small table hidden in the corner for them to sit. Once they had done so, Mr. Lupin looked across their small table as if it were a serious matter they spoke of.

"You must understand that Lord Riddle's mother was very ill," Lupin began again. "She had gone against the law of magical folk and had used a potion to acquire the affections of the previous Lord of Riddle Manor. But when she came to him with child, he had cast her out. She was fraught and in such an agitated state that she forced the senior Lord Riddle to report her to the authorities who then took her child away from her."

Mr. Lupin cast his eyes downwards as if the next part were very difficult to say.

"It is a terrible thing to take one's child away from their parents. James was not very happy about it ― but neither were any of us, to be truthful. Yet he did what he must, and young Mr. Riddle was put in an orphanage while his mother was taken to an asylum. It is unfortunate and unsurprising to say that it did not treat her well. For many years she harboured a deep hatred towards your mother and father, you see. And when she finally escaped, you can imagine..."

Mr. Lupin had paused once again, and Harry could see the ghosts that haunted him in the downturn of his mouth and the look in his eye, but the man managed to plow on. "Well, she found your parents and hoped to repay them for what they took from her."

He looked straight at Harry now. "She wished to harm you, Harry. But your parents... Bless them, they would not let that happen. And so they paid the price; with their lives."

When the Mr Lupin had finished his tale, Harry blinked and found that his cheek felt wet. Hastily, he scrubbed at his face to dry it.  
It dawned on Harry then that Riddle's mother must have created the horcrux by accident when she tried to kill him. And it was only by some miracle that it had not. Harry wondered how that could be, but dared not mention it to Mr. Lupin. He imagined the fact that having a bit of Merope Gaunt's soul somewhere inside of him might alarm the other man.

Harry absently rubbed at the lightning shaped scar on his forehead.

"Thank you," Harry said eventually and Mr. Lupin nodded.

"You deserve to be told the truth, Harry," Lupin replied, and nothing more was said because the room had all gathered around Dumbledore and Lady McGonagall.

The gentlemen went to join the group and by the time they all broke apart again, everyone had a plan as to what would happen next.

  
* * *  
  


Harry and Lady McGonagall departed the house just after the last of the Order members left. He was wracked with nerves and when they finally apparated to Privet Drive, the form of travel did not help to steady his stomach any.

The two of them walked some ways down the dark, gloomy lane when suddenly --

An ill-aimed streak of red light shot between them and Lady McGonagall pushed Harry behind her. She pulled out her wand just as another beam of light collided with her deflection spell. Harry hastily took out his own wand as two men wearing black robes and fearsome masks seemed to form out of black smoke. They appeared to blend in with the very night itself that enshrouded the street.

A flurry of more curses were aimed at them and Harry ducked just in time to avoid one while Lady McGonagall retaliated with a silent stunning hex. Luckily, it found it's mark and one of the cloaked figures froze before falling to the ground like a felled tree.

" _Stupify!_ " Harry cried and the other one dropped like a sack of flour beside him. Lady McGonagall gave him a pleased pat on the shoulder and a firm, reassuring nod before letting him walk down the rest of the street alone.

Harry made sure to keep on the alert as he made his way up to the house. Despite knowing that he was surrounded by friends as well as foes. That Mr. Lupin and Mr. Dumbledore and the others were somewhere out there and keeping an eye out. The thought that he had allies warmed Harry; that he had friends and comrades.

Fortified by this, Harry steeled himself and cast an _Alohamora_ on the door before he silently entered the house. It was pitch dark except for the ominous voice and eerie light that came from the drawing room. And when Harry poked his head around the doorway, he saw a half circle of robed figures in masks surrounding a tied up, gagged, and terrified family of Dursleys. A tall figure paced in front of them and Harry recognized Riddle immediately.

"I shall take enjoyment out of this," Came Riddle's unmistakable voice. Yet it sounded off to Harry's ears. It was cold as ice and caused a shiver to run down his spine.   
"Finally you will receive as much pain as you have caused ― and more. But first, allow me to take delight in hearing your screams." Riddle turned his wand on Dudley. "Shall I start with your son? Filthy muggle that he is. You are all so pathetic... But I shall save the most disgusting for last." He looked at Vernon then and gave a mock contemplative look. "Hm. Perhaps I should dangle you from the wall and let you fall to your demise?" The tip of his wand began to glow pink and just as Riddle began to draw in breath to speak, Harry was there and had flung himself before his wand.

"Thomas, stop!" Harry cried just as blue eyes widened and the red-tipped wand shook and shuddered unpleasantly, crackling just as Harry's did in his breast pocket. It seemed their wands disagreed with harming the other just as much as they did.

"What are you doing here! _Who let you out?!_ " Riddle snarled. A few heads from the circle turned to one another at that but nothing was said.

"I cannot let you do this, Thomas. If you harm them, you have to go through me," Harry said. 

Riddle's face contorted with fury and frustration. "Why do you protect these **_muggles_**?! They have caused you nothing but pain over the years!" 

"No, they have not treated me kindly. But even they deserve to live!!"

Riddle reared back and sneered at Harry. "Enough of this. Stand aside or you will suffer the consequences."

"I already suffer them. And I will not stand aside," Harry repeated, and then so only Riddle understood: " _Please, Thomas. I love you. Does that mean nothing?_ "

The other man stood frozen with his wand in his hand. It vibrated softly, or perhaps that was Riddle's hand that was shaking? Harry saw a million emotions flash through his beautiful, pale face until one of the masked figures from the circle stepped forward.

"Do you wish for us to take care of him, my Lord?" The unknown man spoke.

"NO ONE WILL TOUCH HIM!" Lord Riddle roared, and with a wave of his wand, Harry was flung aside until his back hit the wall and he slumped down against it. Harry stared in shock as Riddle aimed his wand between his uncle's wide and terrified eyes.

"No, don't!!" Harry yelled just as Riddle cried out, " _Crucio!_ "

  
The next few moments felt as if Harry were watching from underwater. He hardly noticed the room flood with spells and hexes as the Order had come crashing in and effectively dispersed the group of robed figures. All Harry could do was watch in detached horror as his uncle Vernon convulsed in pain and his face turned an alarming shade of red and then purple. Harry saw him scream silently into the rag that filled his mouth until his large body eventually fell to the side in a great heap. Meanwhile Aunt Petunia and Dudley looked on, terror and despair on their faces as their own screams were muffled and distorted by their gags. Objects in the room started to shake and rumble. The mirror above the fireplace cracked and shattered into pieces. Things fell and crashed onto the ground and still a cold rage boiled in Lord Riddle's eyes.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Harry cried out, but Riddle's wand was quick to block it. A fury-filled gaze turned slowly on him.

"You should have stayed out of this," The other man growled and came towards him with his wand raised. Harry scrambled to his feet and did not fight back when Riddle took him by the throat and pressed the tip of his wand to his temple. Pain filled Riddle's eyes as his hand began to burn at the contact with Harry's skin. But it was not the only pain he felt so acutely just now.

"Why do you hold such sway over me?" Riddle said, voice flooded with despair and a genuine, desperate question. "You have ruined me, Harry Potter."

Harry stared into those sorrowful eyes and held them, trying to project as much of his love as he could. He distantly heard the strain of wood as Lord Riddle's wand protested the idea of hurting him just as much as his heart. And then like flames plunged into icy water, Riddle's hand loosened from around his neck and his wand fell to his side. His head bowed and came to rest beside Harry's while their cheeks brushed. Riddle closed his eyes. They stood like that for a moment, oblivious to the chaos around them, and Harry's hand came up to hold the man.

" _It's alright,_ " Harry whispered. " _It's going to be alright._ "

And as he said those words, Harry found that he finally, truly believed it.

 

When the two of them finally parted, Harry realized the remaining members of The Order were staring at them. Dumbledore stepped forward then and said, "Mr Potter. Mr Riddle."

" _You interfering old fool._ I will hex you where you stand," Riddle spat.

Dumbledore did not even bat an eye and Harry tried to calm Riddle by placing a placating hand on his arm. He rubbed it soothingly.

"Thomas, there is something I wish to say..." Harry began carefully.

"Do not tell me he has already poisoned you with his lies?" Riddle looked sharply at Dumbledore.

"No. Thomas. I want what you want," Harry said. " _We all do_. And you must believe me when I say that we can achieve it together, and by means that will not harm anyone. And while you keep with your associations, I wish to stay with mine."

Lord Riddle's eyes flinted silver. "You wish to stay with this _Order of the Phoenix_."

Harry stood firm as he looked boldly into Riddle's eyes and replied, "I do."

"Harry," Riddle said, and there was a minute change in his façade; His eyes held a liberated sort of smile. "I believe we finally stand on equal footing."

Harry smiled back. "Yes, I believe we do."  
  


* * *  
  


A few members of The Order stayed to clean up the Dursley home while a few stupified and injured bodies were carted out. (Thankfully, no one seriously hurt or maimed.) Meanwhile the Dursley's themselves were obliviated into blissful ignorance of their traumatizing night. Though Uncle Vernon would certainly be sore for the next few days. A fact which Riddle, Harry witnessed, did not feel the least bit sorry about. The young lord stood conversing with a few of his 'Death Eaters' (Harry had been informed that this was what they called themselves) and was no doubt telling them of the situation so as to pass it on to the rest. Now Dumbledore had managed to pry Harry away from Riddle and taken him aside.

"Will they be okay," Harry found himself asking, and looked over to where the Dursleys appeared as if heavily drugged but unharmed.

"That they will, Harry. And it is all thanks to yourself," Dumbledore said with content before a shadow seemed to pass over his face. "Although I do not regret it, I am sorry to have placed you under their care."

Harry was about to seriously question the 'lack of regret' part when Dumbledore continued:  
"I am sorry that they were who they are. Yet I believe it was still better than leaving you in an orphanage. I am sure even Thomas will agree that his childhood was not pleasurable. Indeed, it came as a surprise that your relatives happened to live so close to Riddle Manor, however. But since it was managed by Thomas Riddle Senior, I was sure that our young lord would stay well clear of the place." He gave a rueful smile. "I have been known to be gravely mistaken at times. That was one of those times, I'm afraid ― Perhaps your curse mark called to him. Who knows... The world truly is a mysterious and strange thing. Is it fate or merely coincidence that yours and Riddle's paths should intertwine as such?" 

Dumbledore seemed to take the moment to muse on this thought, a faraway expression upon his face. It made him seem centuries older than he was.  
 _And who was to say that he was not? Did their kind even live as long as non-magical folk?_ Harry wondered. 

"You see, Harry, my boy. I was afraid of this," Mr Dumbledore admitted after a moment. "That if you two should meet, our world as we know it would succumb to a great but terrible change. Yet… Something remarkable has taken place, I believe. Something that not even I had suspected would occur..." He paused, as if tasting out the thought before continuing. "That it could turn out the other way round, however... That **_you_** should be able to change _Riddle_." He smiled at Harry then, a kind and relieved smile. "You are a wonderful boy, Harry. A brave, brave man."

Harry swallowed thickly. "I love him," He conceded.

"And that is what will save us all."

Harry allowed his eyes to travel back to the tall, dark haired man across the room and felt as if his heart could not grow any bigger for fear that it might burst.

  
* * *  
  


When Riddle and Harry finally left the Dursleys, it was only to go back to the shore of the beach. The lighthouse sat on the horizon like a reminder of their past troubles, but that they were well over now. It was the sun that just began to peek over the water and turn the sky a dusty pink that held the pair's attention.

"Let's leave," Harry said and looked to Riddle beside him, away from the rising sun. "Take me with you and show me the world."

"I will," Riddle said and Harry smiled, a glittering sight that rivalled that of the sun rising. Lord Riddle found he could not take his eyes away from it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a short epilogue planned but, other than that, that's all folks! Thank you for sticking with me on this one. I never expected to get this much love from you guys and I really, really could not have asked for more. xx


	17. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flufffffphlkfd. This chapter is truly the definition of a regency era romance novel. I am shameless.

Three summers had passed when the gardens of Riddle Manor found its two inhabitants once more strolling through its vernal splendor.

As Harry sat upon the soft plush grass, he inhaled the wonderful myriad of fragrances which infused the humid air. He basked in the feel of the sun, gentle and unique to this place after experiencing such different ones in other parts of the world. His wand rose in an absent manner to lazily flick at the nearby daisies which wove themselves into a white-petaled crown. Lord Riddle sat beside him with his broad-brimmed black felt hat to shade himself. A freshly picked basket of mulberries lay beside him which he now fed to his companion, lover, and equal. He admired the dark stain it left on those lips as he did so - a rich crimson that glistened slightly. Oh, how he could kiss them forever and more.  
  
They had already spent a sizable portion of the morning since their arrival simply exploring each other's mouths under the blooming cherry blossoms. And after that, nearby a rose bush where Harry had managed to cut his cheek upon a thorn. Riddle's thumb had reached up and swiped away the drop of blood only to taste it on his tongue a moment later. Harry had flinched at the sight, though could not deny how it quickened his blood.

"You mustn't," Harry protested halfheartedly, and that wicked smile appeared. As red as the blood of which Riddle had just tasted.

"Do I repulse you?" The young lord inquired, and Harry knew that he meant the blood, but sat up to gaze down into the other man's eyes with a look that must have alerted the other man. For Riddle's eyes widened slightly, all trace of playfulness gone from his handsome expression. Harry caught the slight acceleration of breath as Riddle looked up at him.

"You could never repulse me," Harry murmured and Riddle looked away as he could plainly see the truthfulness of these words written plainly across Harry's face.

"Don’t be a fool," Riddle said by way of reply, and Harry’s heart clenched tight at the faint pink which stained his lover's pale cheeks. The man then hastily but gently pushed Harry off him and they both resumed their walk in the garden. Shoulders brushed companionably as fingers at times intertwined. Harry knew it would be some time yet before Riddle was truly comfortable with gestures of affection but was certain they would get there. It only took one step at a time.

Which is how they came to rest now among the whispering trees in the mild English summer breeze. The crown of daisies floated mid air and threatened to land on Riddle's head.

"I must confess I would have thought that after I had shown you how to wield your magic, I might see some more… grandiose purposes being done with it. Not… this..." Lord Riddle sneered disapprovingly at the flower crown Harry had made and the latter laughed.

"I’m so sorry to disappoint you, your Lordship. Perhaps if I did something else?"

And before Riddle could say anything more, a strong wind had picked up and sent leaves and flowers tumbling through the garden and across the grass. They all seemed to stop, however, and slowly began to rise. They floated into the air and simply hovered there for a moment. Harry and Riddle watched as the flowers began to twirl and spin in a little dance until they suddenly burst ― Sending a shower of petals to float down around them like softly falling snowflakes.  
Riddle caught Harry's childish grin through the deluge of petals and he almost rolled his eyes. He cocked his brow in any case.

"Perhaps a bit more practice. But I will concede that was almost... impressive," Lord Riddle said.

Harry's grin only grew and Riddle watched it unfold on his face as something deep in himself unravelled as well, reaching out to the other man.

Seeing the look in Riddle's eyes, a mischievous light danced in Harry's emerald depths. The expression was something Lord Riddle had become quite acquainted with in the past few years.

"Kiss me," Harry said. Riddle held himself back, however. At least for a few moments at first, enjoying the tease. But then Harry bit down on his bottom lip and Riddle could not stop ― He swooped in and captured those lips with his own. The moan Harry made was worth it, every little bit. It is worth the grass stains and the dirt in his hair and under his fingernails. He ran them through Harry’s own thick locks and the man does not seem to mind an ounce. In fact, it almost felt like Harry revelled in it.

“Harry.”

“Yes, my lord?”

“I’m…"

Harry waited but he knew he would not get the ending to Riddle's sentence. Yet he found he already knew; Could feel it in his own blood, thrumming in his heart. Harry grinned to himself.

“I'm happy as well, Thomas,” He said. His back was pressed warm against Riddle's now as they sat out in their garden, surrounded by its life and magic. They were finally home.

  
  
**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a nice song for you guys: '[♪♫ Vinyl Memory - Rob](https://db.tt/p0b7SUoO)'. Think of it as an ending credit song. x)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Over The Wall](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4326303) by [checkmatey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/checkmatey/pseuds/checkmatey)




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